


You Make Me Feel Pretty

by PsykoRedHead16



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Stuart Pot, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pirates, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate universe - strippers & detectives, Cyborg Stuart Pot, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Murder Mystery AU, Plastic Beach AU, Serious Injuries, artwork, detective Murdoc Niccals, explicit artwork, pirate murdoc, pirate stuart, stripper Stuart Pot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22858408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsykoRedHead16/pseuds/PsykoRedHead16
Summary: Four special AU one-shot gifts for friends.
Relationships: Murdoc Niccals/Stuart "2D" Pot
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	1. Plastic Heart: Gift Giving

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: there is explicit artwork, if you're not 18+ please do not view this story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Automaton love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gift to my wonderful friend Susa, who had a soft spot for cyborg Stuart in this AU.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Thank you for being such a supportive friend, I cherish you so very much Susa._

_I began writing this upon receiving a prompt from you about Cy wearing a skirt that Murdoc intended to gift him. On a whim I decided this was the story I wanted to craft into a bigger gift. Without further ado…_

  
  


**_Gift Giving_ **

  
  


💗 💗 💗

  
  


It was light, rather weightless given the packaging around the very special materials hidden inside. He had bought it on a whim while utterly plastered, thought it was a perfect idea. Now, staring at the innocuous, thin box, it felt all too real how foolish the idea had been. Sighing despondent, Murdoc tossed it lightly onto the black sheets of his bed.  
  
No matter the budding relationship forming between him and the replica he had painstakingly crafted, it felt incredibly insensitive to present something so… lewd as a gift. Cy was more than just a replica, Cy was a person, a being with thoughts, feelings, and Murdoc had to keep reminding himself. Rubbing his face, tired and unshaven after another night of over drinking, he turned and left the room. The day commenced as any other and for the following couple of hours the awkwardly shaped box lay forgotten. 

  
  


💗 💗 💗

  
  


Pressing the partially ajar door further, Cy watched the entry open up.

Despite asking for some freedoms, namely a room for himself, Cy still felt the draw of curiosity whenever passing Murdoc’s room. They were on tenuous ground after a mild disruption between the four of them and days had passed where the man stayed locked up when not recording music. Cy was never invited in and any activities between them were designated to Cy’s very own room. Murdoc still complained about Cy’s yellow walls even after months, yet insisted they use it. 

Peering around the space, Cy took in the layout, the dimness and general unkempt appearance of the room. He knew Murdoc was a rather messy human, had known from years of shared companionship. There was a moment of hesitation before breaching the threshold of Murdoc’s doorway into the unknown. Cy glanced about the area with general interest, cataloguing items. Part of him knew entering a room not owned by himself without consent was considered rude; however, given that Murdoc practically catered to nearly all his wishes like a butler on his beck and call, Cy figured the man would let slide his snooping. 

He examined the ritualistic books littering Murdoc’s desk first, hands shifting the dusty items as he went. He cocked his head when he found a manual for building animatronics. Bringing the book up he flipped through it rapidly, dark eyes scanning the words faster than a human. Giving a small hum of thought, a recent development upon having gained his sentience and a voice, Cy set it aside once finished. Rapidly the cyborg grew bored of the contents on the desk and therefore moved on to Murdoc’s closet. 

Parting the doors to the closet he lit up at all the clothes he recognized from photo shoots and promotional gigs. Without thought Cy reached out to finger at the leather coat Murdoc had worn only three weeks prior, a coat the cyborg rather liked on the man. The sensation of material was tough and thick just as he knew leather should feel. Something Cy found he was beginning to enjoy immensely was the texture of different fabrics and materials. Unthinkingly he continued to run his fingers through other coats and outfits, slowly smiling to himself. Another thing he knew was Murdoc’s expensive taste in clothes. The man may have very little as far as day-to-day clothes were concerned, but of these outfits they tended to be higher end. 

Grabbing a separate coat, Cy removed the heavy article from the hanger and slid himself into it. Given his slight frame the coat fit well enough, even if his wrists were sticking out more than normal. Smiling even wider he stepped to the centre of the room and held the coat closed, spinning slightly. He felt warm and oddly safe wearing the bassist’s clothes. Cy was still educating himself on what everything meant when he experienced the emotions. Still, he knew the feelings of safety meant he was content. The fact that a jacket brought those feelings was still a foreign concept, but Cy refused to hover on the subject lest he ruin his suddenly cheerful mood.

Upon stopping, facing the bed, Cy spotted a rather longish and thin box laid on Murdoc’s unmade bed. Blinking he approached the bed and eyed the package. Whatever mystery held within was not any of Cy’s business in the least. Curiosity won out rapidly and Cy grabbed up the box with eager hands. For a minute he forgot etiquette and dug his fingers into the edges, easily tearing the cardboard open. Learning human customs and mannerisms were still wholly new to Cy, but the excitement at a mystery spurred him on without a care. Dispensing the outer packaging revealed a sleek black box with a small greek symbol in gold at the center. Brushing his fingertips over the box he discovered, with a pleasant surprise, the symbol was textured. Rubbing his index finger over the mark again he committed to memory the feel; a somewhat sandpapery feel. Moving his hands he turned the box this way and that to find a seam, interested to know what was within.

Cy removed the top of the box to find sheer tissues in the hue of baby blue. A mild frown of confusion rose to his face as he set the box upon the bed once more and moved the papers. Pushing them aside brought the true contents of the box to light and Cy paused with surprise. It was deep violet and made of a shiny material. With care he lifted the item from its case and held it up to view it fully only to gasp softly. It felt weighted and thick, similar but not, like leather. There was a slick feel over the top of the material.  
  
“A skirt,” He mumbled faintly. His thumbs smoothed over the material, admiring the pure sleekness of the article.  
  
It was somewhat short in length and layered with pleating from the waistline down. The violet hue was darkest between the pleats from the waist. He could only imagine how cool the material would feel should he wear it. 

Setting it aside he peered at the matching top and two simple heels. The long sleeves and pattern drew his eyes and he quickly brought the item out for inspection. The fabric was sheer, nearly see-through, but not entirely. Cy held it aloft and smiled at the soft looking imagery of clouds printed across the shirt. He pondered whether it appropriate to try the clothing on. He could tell by a simple scan of the items that it was sized to fit him and not Murdoc, which he concluded was because Murdoc intended to give it to him. 

Fingering the shirt Cy chewed at his lip involuntarily while weighing the outcome of doing that before Murdoc had presented the gift. He knew the man was out for the evening, something to do with the label and the direction Gorillaz was heading with their new album. Murdoc wouldn’t be home for another two hours, which meant he could try the clothes on and put them back before Murdoc knew. 

Waffling over the decision, Cy set the shirt against the bed gently. His internal workings kicked into overdrive as he contemplated the clothes. Wearing them would feel decidedly nice, that much he knew, but a part of him felt… Naughty. Naughty for essentially doing something against Murdoc’s wishes and then further digging into a present to himself without consent. 

It took a couple more minutes of hard thinking before with a soft flush, Cy dropped the coat off his shoulders. Slipping out of his trousers, socks, everything until nude, he grabbed up the shirt to slide on. He hummed in delight at the material against his torso, his sensory input compiled the sensation with haste. Once pleased he had sufficiently enjoyed the material he worked on the skirt next. A small trill of noise escaped him when he twirled partly, enjoying the flow of the thick, sleek skirt. It moved as though made of a more feathery material. Lastly he eyed the heels, a soft pink with two straps. Not overly big, Cy almost decided against putting them on. The feel of the outfit paired to his feelings on having a matching set, he grabbed them from the case and worked them onto his feet. 

“Perfect,” he commented gently, turning this way and that to feel the freeness of the skirt over his bare legs. 

“What’re you doing in here--”

“Murdoc!” 

Instant dread clenched, metaphorically he told himself, at his quickly beating plastic heart. Whipping around, skirt fluttering with the movement, he eyed the bassist with wide terrified eyes. 

“I- I was, I did not mean… Your door was open and I grew curious,” Cy stumbled over his words and clutched at the skirt, fretting and smoothing it down. There was no way the short skirt could cover more, yet for some odd reason he needed to move his hands. “You never allow me in your room, I saw this box… It’s meant for me, I- uh well, I know it is because of the sizing but, but I shouldn’t have-”

“Whoa,” Murdoc interrupted, hands raised in a placating motion. “Calm down Cy.” 

“I am sorry Murdoc, I should not have entered without permission or touched your things.”

When he received nothing in response, Cy finally felt some nerve to peer at Murdoc. To gauge how angry the other must be at his idiotic need to fulfill his budding understanding of the world while completely forgoing human ettiquette.

He jolted at how suddenly close Murdoc was. He reminded himself that the physiological reaction was indicative of being startled and nothing more serious. He read over Murdoc’s face, the man’s eyes, the curve of his lips and how red the others cheeks were growing. It was rare in present time for Cy to witness such visceral hunger, a deep longing, which he only understood thanks to late night romance movies with Noodle. The hooded looks swapped between love interests and the pupil dilation humans displayed. He could see the reactions plain as day, Murdoc was rather interested in him on a more carnal level, more than usual. His body began working faster and the artificial flush returned to his cheeks when he realized the “bedroom” look was geared for him. 

“You look rather good in those,” Murdoc finally said. The man kept his voice low and easy, as if talking to a cornered animal and not robotic replica with growing sentience. Essentially felt the same with the look he was being given. 

“I… Thank you,” Cy started, voice suddenly shy. “They were meant to be a gift for me, right?” 

“Yeah,” Murdoc breathed. The bassist took a stride forward and filled up most of Cy’s visual range. “Didn’t mean for you to have ‘em though, thought it a bit stupid with how new all this is, but look at you. Works beautifully. Compliments you _so_ well.”

Murdoc reached for him and ever so gently felt along his waist. The palms pressed the latex further into his facsimile skin which triggered his sensors. It was cool with a hint of heat emanating from Murdoc’s hands. It felt incredible the dual sensations, and his heart sped up at the implications. 

“Oh,” he sighed.

“That a good ‘oh’?”

He punctuated his agreement by nodding and leaning down to peck at Murdoc’s lips. No matter the many kisses there had been, his body reacted the same each time. His body felt hot and everywhere was on overdrive, as though he was experiencing hypersensitivity. 

“Should be frustrated you wandered in, but looking like this.” Murdoc slid his hands further back and ran them over Cy’s covered backside. There was nothing to shield his skin from the feeling of cool plasticy texture on his bare bottom. He let slip a small whimper and Murdoc gave him a self-satisfied leer. “Do you like that doll? Like the _feeling_ on your skin?” 

“Mhm.” 

Cy feared if he vocalized it would be an assortment of gasps and small pleas to be touched more and more. Though on his own accord, Murdoc petted the skirt down over the curve of his backside before finalizing the journey with a firm squeeze. Cy felt his body shiver and throwing caution to the wind jutted his hips partly to press into Murdoc’s palms. Murdoc’s grin widened and with one step, then two, Cy found himself walking backwards into the edge of the bed.

Cy squirmed under the pressure of hands massaging his backside through the latex, rubbing and squeezing off and on. Murdoc pressed himself closer to Cy and suddenly he was on his back, legs dangling off the bed. He felt the sharp edge of the cardboard case digging unpleasantly into his back. A complaint bubbled up only it was replaced with a tiny embarrassed whine when Murdoc brought a hand to his crotch, pushing the plastic texture to his throbbing erection.

“What’s that love?” Murdoc gave a rough chuckle while feeling Cy up through the skirt. His legs had nowhere to go other than to dangle so he hooked them around Murdoc’s waist. “There we are, that’s nice isn’t it, doll?” 

Cy found himself becoming flushed down his chest. The rub of the shirt against his overheating skin nearly tipped him over. “Nice, good ah-” 

“You look gorgeous like this,” Murdoc spoke reverently, “barely have to touch yeah and you’re a mess, aren’t you?” 

“Mhh…” 

Neither of them had partaken in anything with such sexually charged energy beyond a couple heated kisses and some hand holding. When Murdoc continued to knead him through the latex, Cy was certain something big would happen, or potentially he would short-circuit; it felt as though he may just combust. The bassist hovered over him, his free arm propping him up enough to give his palm space between them. Cy tried to hold eye contact, but the act alone made his body quake and overheat. 

“You’re doing okay?” 

The momentary pause and genuine check in gave Cy brief reprieve from the nearly overwhelming sensation. And, although breathing wasn’t completely necessary, Cy took a deep breath. He hoped it would cool his systems enough before he pressed to continue. 

“Yes, very okay. Uh, please continue, I enjoyed it.”

He worried the confession would earn him a laugh, but Murdoc gave him a strange noise reminiscent of a dying cat’s purr and dipped in to kiss him. 

Kissing was an easy, well learned ability for Cy and so he kissed back with gusto, hands coming up to tangle in Murdoc’s thick hair. He loved touching Murdoc’s hair, which he was seldom allowed to do so he took full advantage when he could. Their kiss developed from brushing of lips to full on biting and tongues fighting for dominance in mere seconds. Eyes fluttering, Cy moaned into Murdoc’s mouth. He felt increasingly dizzy the longer it went on and attested that to how expertly Murdoc teased and tasted at his mouth and not the hot quality his body was managing. They only broke apart when the bassist needed air, which he took before going back for another somewhat sloppy kiss. 

This was all Cy needed, he could die happy like this. 

“Cy, love,” Murdoc murmured against his lips. “Would you be opposed to trying something new?” 

“No.” 

New things were practically his daily meal, he enjoyed learning and so took whatever lessons he could garner from the day. 

“You can tell me to stop anytime okay? You understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

Murdoc peeled himself from Cy’s overly hot body and wasted no time digging into his bedside table. Cy observed the man with growing interest until Murdoc turned with a bottle of lubrication. Cy eyed him in bemusement until his eyes scanned the lettering on the bottle. A warm blush filled his face yet again and he avoided mismatched eyes. 

The bed sunk as Murdoc joined him once more. 

“Y’sure about this? We don’t have to do anything.”

“I do,” Cy blurted. “I do want to have sex. I have never experienced it and would like to.”

Inhaling deeply, Murdoc quirked his lips and quickly stole another kiss. He moved until half the bed was empty and proceeded to pat up by the pillows. 

“Come rest your head here.”

Cy took his time shimmying about until he was laid out, head on the pillows. He remembered to nudge the box off the bed so neither of them accidentally hit it. He nervously petted the skirt and made a pitiful attempt to smother his erection from tenting the latex completely. When Murdoc grasped his wrists and placed them above Cy’s head, the cyborg implicitly understood he was silently being told to keep them there. He couldn’t explain how he knew either, but some innate knowledge gave him the information. Murdoc slipped over a bare thigh to settle between Cy’s spread legs. 

Cracking the bottle open, Murdoc drizzled a decent amount onto his fingers, rubbing them together. Cy watched fascinated, though his heart pounded in nervous excitement. Murdoc shuffled forward and came in for a kiss, an unrushed one. Cy smiled into the bassist’s mouth, thoroughly distracted from the slicked fingers. At the slightest slide of fingers over his pucker, Cy broke the kiss to inhale. The burn of his internal systems picked up and showed no signs of stopping when Murdoc continued to rub the hyper realistic opening, triggering all sorts of feelings. His thighs shook when Murdoc worked a finger into him. 

“Oh-oh,” Cy gasped. 

It was unlike the other sensations he had enjoyed. The feeling of being opened in an area of his body with extra sensory receptors was intense. It felt as though all the best receptors of his body were being triggered into firing off to his mind. He barely had a moment to catalogue the first finger when Murdoc eased a second one in. He was sure this time he would explode. Everything was too warm, his face, his chest, his skin and body. For whatever reason his regulated breathing wasn’t helping cool his systems. 

“How’re you feeling doll? Too much?” Murdoc sounded amused if a bit breathless himself. Cy pitifully whined when his hips involuntarily rocked downwards into the press of fingers. “You like this?”

Clutching the blankets and pillows above his head, Cy nodded as he started to rock his hips more frequently, chasing the feeling. He loved it, the boiling, like he was drowning in lava and couldn’t get enough. The stretch increased when a third finger was pressed into him. Gasping open mouthed and practically silent, Cy spread his legs. As if he could read his mind, Murdoc began leaving open mouthed kisses along his throat. Cy whimpered loudly when teeth nibbled at the sensitive seam between portions of his skin. Keening into the mouth, following Murdoc’s path, Cy closed his eyes as the peak rushed his computing facilities in his brain. It was too much, he couldn’t stop it. 

“I’m going to explode!” He could feel stupid later, but his forming vocabulary didn’t have the words to explain he was cresting like a tidal wave. 

The hand pumping fingers in and out of him picked up speed, sinking hard and deep into him. Cy arched and writhed against the bed as blinding heat overtook over his senses. He yelled, voice stuttering and just barely felt the dampness against his crotch as he rode the wave of pleasure.

There were numerous alerts blaring in his systems, alerts that informed him of what he was experiencing through coding. He exhaled, useless action that it was for him, and felt his body ease as it relaxed into the bedding. Upon coming to, the petting of his hair and soft kisses to his temple filtered in. His body had residue shakes, an utterly new thing for him. 

“You did so well love.” 

Cy worked his mouth, unconsciously, as his systems took stock of his body. All his systems were riding a lingering tingle of excitement and pleasure that shook his legs like aftershocks of an electric jolt. He felt spent like his charge was low, but in a pleasant manner, which he stored away for a future discussion. Murdoc continued to comb his hair with fingers, massaging his scalp in the fashion he normally did when Cy felt overwhelmed with too much sensory input. He felt a faint smile tugging at his lips from the attention. 

“Did you enjoy it?” Murdoc sounded worried, his voice dipping into an even softer tone as he paused his petting. “You didn’t say to stop, I assumed it was good.” 

“I liked it,” Cy replied. He still had a haze of sensations bombarding his mind. “What is that called? What you did, that is.”

“Fingering,” Murdoc snickered, the tense nerves seemingly easing from him. “Anal fingering.”  
  
Cy hummed in acknowledgement while wiggling some to get more comfortable against the pillows and Murdoc. He could feel the slick remains of the lubrication on his opening as well as the false spunk pressing to his limp penis and skin at the crotch. He bemoaned in silence the mess he had made on the skirt, not fully aware he could probably clean it without damage to the material. 

“There’s more, but I’d hate to tire you out too much.”

Perking up, Cy gave Murdoc an imploring look, eyes wide with curiosity yet again. 

“More?” 

“Well there’s full oral or penetrative sex we could give a shot,” Murdoc explained. His hand had moved from Cy’s head to gesture calmly. “No need to rush it though. You probably need a bit.” 

“I would like to try.” Cy mulled over the two suggestions and frowned into the middle distance as he contemplated what the difference was. He finally gave Murdoc a glance. “What is the difference? I can define the difference, but what does it mean physically?” 

“Physically? Well,” Murdoc started, “oral is using my mouth on you. Penetrative is basically what I did, but with _my_ cock.”

Automatically his eyes trailed Murdoc’s form to the man’s crotch, which he only noticed now was tenting partly. Cy contemplated the bulge, his palm slowly inching its way to the spot with intent. He covered the bump and closed his hand over it firmly, feeling the hardened flesh beneath the tough material of jeans. Murdoc grunted somewhere above his head, a small utterance of noise. 

“You would put this in me?” Cy wondered if it would feel better than Murdoc’s fingers, which had been… wonderful.

“If you want,” Murdoc huffed out. He figured the stimulation to the hidden erection was making Murdoc more breathless than usual. 

Having had a moment to consume and organize his sensory data, Cy felt he was ready to experience more, whatever it entailed. Murdoc removed his hand abruptly and Cy blinked, eyes wide as he shot them between the palm on his and Murdoc’s face. He scanned the facial expression, gleaning whether Murdoc was upset. 

“Careful there dollie, you’ll finish this before it’s started.”

“Apologies.” Cy watched Murdoc as the man slowly interlocked their fingers together and pressed himself bodily closer. Cy could feel the rough texture of jeans brushing his thigh and shivered partly. 

“Lay back baby-doll. Let me take care of you.”

Something deep in his programing triggered a response, a soft flush, which returned to his cheeks at the continued use of pet names. Cy took the direction and pressed to the bed on his back. Murdoc wasted no time moving between his thighs once more, the one hand holding Cy’s to the bedding somewhat firmly. 

“If you want to stop at _any_ point love, say the word ‘red’ and I’ll stop. You understand?” 

“You keep asking me that, why?” Cy tilted his head, he was unaware he did that when questioning Murdoc. It was a strange tick he had developed unwittingly. “Is it something I’ll ask you to stop? Is it meant to hurt?”

“Well, no.” Murdoc paused his free hand at his own waist, attempting to unbutton his jeans single handed. “I’m making sure I’ve got your unconditional consent Cy. Important to me that you _want_ to do these things.”

Cy curled his lips into a bright smile. He understood consent, given he had broken it twice earlier by entering Murdoc’s room and opening a gift to himself without asking. He might need to analyze, later on, why he did what he did. It might be an error in his programming that he missed in his wake up systematic scans that morning. 

“So, again, say ‘red’ if you wanna stop. Okay?”

“Okay, Murdoc.”

The strange fluttering of his heart returned when Murdoc kissed him feather soft, the stubble on his upper lip scratching Cy partly. He hummed and molded his mouth to Murdoc’s more insistently, eager to push further quickly. Cy noticed Murdoc kept their kissing more lax, a gentle press of lips rather than the heated spit swapping of earlier. 

Then he felt his pleated skirt being pushed up, exposing his nether regions. Breaking their kiss, Cy tried to look downward at what was happening, but the opaque purple latex of the skirt blocked his view. He inhaled sharply, more a hiss through his missing tooth gap, when warm lips found his throat. Teeth once again nipped at his false skin, trailing the seams. Cy whined under his breath and involuntarily turned his head to allow more access. The small sparks of pleasure jolted through his systems rapidly and his body replied in kind. His internal workings began to heat up with his growing arousal. He felt more than saw himself hardening fully and the touch of Murdoc’s palm sliding over the curve of his thigh and bottom. 

“Let’s see how wet you are.” Whispered against his neck in such a deep rumble, Cy shook bodily. Something about the words made everything quake inside him. 

He felt the returning sensation of rough fingers brushing his opening and gasped. Murdoc rubbed and teased along his pucker, only probing partially as if testing- Cy really couldn’t tell what given his mind was clouding over with all his receptors firing off. 

“Very slick, s’perfect. Y’ready dollie?” 

Cy gulped in air when Murdoc pulled his digits away and leaned up some to eye him. 

“I… yes, yes I’m ready.” 

The skirt was pressed up against his stomach, crumpled in a way that only allowed him to see his erection, but not much else. He had intended to complain about this, was going too, but he watched Murdoc shift closer with a hand down between them. 

“Eyes up here baby-doll.” 

Cy drew his eyes up to Murdoc’s face, cheeks burning. The bassist gave him a crooked smile, eyes filled with warmth. _Affection_ , Cy mentally supplied himself. There was an inordinate amount of similar feelings swirling in Cy directed towards the man above him. He barely knew how to express them aside from hugging or kissing the man excessively. 

“You’re beautiful Cy.” He wanted to kiss Murdoc desperately. The man remained frustratingly out of reach though. 

There was a nudge of something hot, blunt and much bigger than a finger rubbing up against his sensitive pucker. His programming tried to file the info away only it started to ease into him. The stretch was intense. He bit down on his bottom lip, eyebrows drawing together as he tried to run through the feelings compared to Murdoc’s fingers, find a correlation and understand the sensation. 

“Y’doing okay there? Should I stop?” 

“No! No, please no. It’s good,” Cy didn’t know where the words were pouring out from, but he didn’t want to lose this. It wasn’t painful, but unique and different. Different than the fingers and he wanted it all, despite the overwhelmingness. “Please, more. Give me more.” 

Murdoc gave a light thrust of his hips and pressed deeper, spreading him wider down there. Cy arched his head back, digging it into the pillows slightly. 

“O-oh, oh that’s- Yes, mhm.” 

“God,” Murdoc commented, voice nearly a growl. “Look at you, you’re already leaking again.” 

Cy couldn’t feel the leaking, not when his backside was experiencing every sensory response possible.  
  
“I’m not even in you yet.” 

This time Murdoc didn’t ask when he rocked his hips hard a couple times, sinking completely into Cy. He arched his back and writhed against the other man which did little to alleviate the explosion of colour behind his eyelids. 

“Good?” Cy felt his other palm being held down to the bedding. 

“Ahh… so good.” 

“It gets better.” 

Cy moaned loud and drawn as Murdoc pulled out some only to thrust back in, practically slamming their bodies together at the waist. It didn’t stop there as Murdoc continued, building a slow rhythm between them, rocking his hips and sliding in and out with ease. Cy found his mouth moving without his permission as he began gasping heavily. His fingers dug, maybe a bit too tightly, into Murdoc’s hands in a feeble attempt to ground himself. 

“There we are,” Murdoc groaned, punctuating his words with somewhat firm thrusts. “Sing for me dollie, let me hear you.”

His back curved with an extra hard thrust. Everything was firing off, his heart was erratic and he feared he may overheat and shut down from over stimulation. He found among the bombardment of sensors and alerts, his hips jutted, awkwardly seeking more as he tried to move in time to Murdoc’s rough pace. It only made him feel more on edge, teetering between awareness and the alluring bang of white ecstasy he had experienced just minutes or so prior.

“Say my name dollie. C’mon, I wanna hear it as you cum.” 

Cy felt himself shift up the bed with a deep thrust and blurted Murdoc’s name shakily. So much was crashing over him, like a constant wave. He didn’t have a moment to compute. When Murdoc’s thrusting became faster, slightly more messy, Cy knew the other was getting closer, it was similar to his earlier movements. 

“Murdoc… Murdoc please,” he pleaded, unsure what he wanted. 

Somehow the man seemed to understand. His palms were released and Murdoc laid close against him, trapping Cy’s erection between them. The slide of cool latex and Murdoc’s sweaty stomach on either side of his cock did wonders to tip Cy over the edge. His hands flew to Murdoc’s back and he pressed his thighs up to Murdoc’s sides as the bassist fucked him harder into the bed. He cried out Murdoc’s name, his erection pulsing between them, squirting against skin and latex. Everything turned white as he rode through his second orgasm, whimpering into Murdoc’s neck as the man kept going. 

It felt like the onslaught of pleasure would never end, he almost wished it never did. Murdoc grunted when he finally climaxed, pressed deep. The feeling was new and Cy wriggled against the man as his systems once more returned to a steadier pace. Murdoc’s weight on him was pleasant and he carefully eased his limbs to avoid crushing the man too much. 

He received a couple pecks against his throat and collar after a long minute or two. Murdoc chuckled and rested his sweaty cheek on Cy’s shoulder. 

“Y’were pretty red there, thought you might explode.” 

Cy touched his own face. “Was I?” 

“Yeah, s’cute. How’re you feeling love?” 

Cy took that moment when his systems seemingly felt cool enough, to run a diagnostic scan of his internal systems and body as a whole. Aside from detecting a foreign substance in his anal cavity, which he assumed was Murdoc’s semen, everything checked out okay. There were occasional jitters like the first time, but he now recognized them as aftershocks of intense pleasure. 

He smiled and nuzzled into Murdoc’s hair, while he had the chance. 

“I feel wonderful. I would like to try this again.”

“Oi,” Murdoc huffed. “Give me an hour okay? Not exactly ready to go again yet.” 

“Oh, well could you use your fingers again?” 

Murdoc’s muffled laugh he received in response was hardly what he had expected. Cy gave the head a baffled stare. As if sensing his befuddlement, Murdoc shifted and cautiously eased out of Cy. It wasn’t unpleasant, but Cy felt bereft the full feeling and almost pouted. Murdoc settled alongside him and started to lazily tug Cy close, like he intended to cuddle. He obliged and snuggled up, content despite the sticky mess all over them. 

“I’ll get you some toys to try out.”

“Toys?”

“Yeah, you can buy all kinds of shit now-a-days. You’ll love it, doll-face.”

Cy smiled to himself and nuzzled into the other man. “Okay. Until I have toys, can we have sex again? I would like to try laying on my stomach next.” 

Murdoc chuckled again and brought Cy’s face up to kiss him. It was a relaxed kiss that lead nowhere, but was no less wonderful to Cy. When they parted, Murdoc rubbed his cheek gingerly. 

“Whatever you want love.” 

💗 💗 💗

_  
  
_

__


	2. Midnight Blue: Bullets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neon lights make him cum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gift for my lovely girlfriend who likes a little bit of kinky fun. Love yeah babe, hope you enjoy~
> 
> WARNING: There is heavy sexual content, explicit artwork (Censored), and allusions/talk of physical abuse. Please do not read if you are under 18.

  
  


_To my wonderful friend and confidant, Erin._

_Thank you for your patience and putting up with my incessant teasing about this present. You have been a stone in tough times and good cheer when I’m down. I thought of this AU almost immediately when I decided to do these booklets. So, without further ado…_

Bullets 

  
  


🧩 🧩 🧩

It was different.

Different than the flashing lights, the smell of sour beer and raucous hoots of drunken men and women. Different than having Hector hover over him, practically breathing down his neck, tightening the metaphorical leash about his neck and keeping him in check. 

A bang of a 9mm glock firing brought him from his thoughts. He was in a firing range on the city limits, tucked into one of the many booths available in the room. Glancing down he finally noticed the palm at his waist, thumb hooking into the top of his waistline. The hand belonged to one of the most endearing, though oftentimes gruff, men he had ever met. A ruggedly handsome detective with a crooked smile and dry wit. His eyes trailed up the tattooed arm to a shoulder and then face. Murdoc was staring at him in mild concern, safety glasses pushing some of his bangs aside to reveal the pinch between thick brows. He gave the other man a small smile, his own hand coming to settle on Murdoc’s at his own waist. 

“Disappeared there. Y’good?” 

Next to impossible to discern Murdoc’s voice, he watched the man’s lips move. He mentally ran over the words being said before he gave a curt nod in answer. It satisfied Murdoc and he tilted his head towards the firearm, resting innocently on the table, its barrel pointed down range. 

“Want a go?” 

Again he followed the mouth before a grin enveloped his own lips. Murdoc gave him an equally wide grin before nodding him closer. He stepped in next to the detective, following the silent instructions on handling the weapon. His thrill at finally getting a chance to hold something normally behind lock and key wore away very quickly. It felt heavy, distinctly cool to the touch and nothing at all like what he expected when this day was proposed by Murdoc. He remembered seeing guns in the cartoons and live action movies as a child. They always seemed badass, less dangerous with the over flamboyant usage of them in television, which smothered all natural fears. Here, presently, holding the device in his palms and feeling the metal, he realized how deadly the gun was. 

He barely noticed Murdoc positioning his hold and assisting him in proper aiming technique. His mind narrowed to a point, staring down the range at the placid paper target with a crudely humanoid shape slapped on it. There were rings with numbers and for a moment he wondered if Murdoc had ever killed someone with a gun before. 

“Rest your index against the trigger and when you’re ready press down.”

Hyper aware of the firearm in his hands, he blinked down at it. A tremble filled his palms as he swallowed nervously. Murdoc seemingly noticed his dilemma because he had soothing circles being rubbed into his back. Mentally he reminded himself to thank the man after the range and focused on aiming. 

Pulling the trigger was a powerful rush, he barely noticed the draw back as he stared at the newly formed hole in the target down the way. Despite his jitters he pulled the trigger again and again, his mind supplying him with an image of Hector at the other end. Only when the magazine ran out did he exhale, his shoulders relaxing. 

“How’d that feel?” 

“Cathartic,” he mumbled. 

  
  


🧩 🧩 🧩

  
  


Light shone on him momentarily before they flickered to sporadic coloured lights, decorating the high end joint in a rainbow, himself included. It hid the blue of his hair rather well, which he preferred. There was an instance of hesitation before he was gracefully strutting down the walkway towards the metal pole. His attire fluttered as he strode, sequins shimmering with each step, jingling softly against his bare thighs and upper arms. Despite the itch of his overly thick stage makeup, covering the sinister truth beneath, he grasped the pole and swung himself around and down at an angle. He smiled almost dazedly at the men in the first row, winking to one in particular. 

He hated this job, hated how well he performed like a puppet. Hector was watching him from his perch in the VIP lounge section. All the man had to do was pull his strings and he would dance, sing or bend over for whomever was paying the best price. He felt disgusting under the ever present scrutiny. Even the small amounts of freedoms allowed to him were tainted by the man. 

Turning on the pole he expertly worked his top off and tossed it in time to the motion of him flipping upside down. Upon hanging there by his legs he spotted Murdoc near the bar, watching him. His face felt hotter under the makeup at the prospect of his sort of boyfriend, _they were boyfriends, right?_ , watching from the sidelines. All guise of professionalism wore away at the thought of enticing his favourite person as he slid along the pole like a cat, stretching his long limbs sensually. 

  
  


By the end of his performance his chest was heaving, heart rushing in excitement, as he struggled to go through his closing moments. Women and men alike were giving lewd comments, loud enough to hear above the music, but he caught Murdoc’s eyes and nothing else mattered. He hurried back stage, eager to change into a gift he had received from an anonymous patron, something he _knew_ Murdoc would enjoy. He was so sure the detective would like the outfit, he barely stopped to consider otherwise. 

Removing his thick, gaudy stage makeup meant to staunch sweating, Stuart hummed a jaunty tune. Wiping his face and freshening up with a damp cloth he sighed content. Having a hobo bath with a cloth was less than appealing, but he doubted Murdoc would care. Changing into the outfit he grinned salaciously at his own reflection, running his palms over his sides and humming in delight. The material was form fitting, hugging his body in the right places, while being flowy and loose elsewhere. It certainly showed off his best features.

“Perfect.” 

Plunking down he went to work with some lighter makeup, dressing up his cheeks and eyes with sparkles and purple tones. He winked at himself, satisfied the overall look would appeal highly to the undercover detective. He blew himself a kiss before he was exiting the room, prepared to go onto the floor like normal. His mind was racing with all the naughty things they could get up too, whether Murdoc would be rough and tear the clothes in his desire to have Stuart. He shivered a little in delight at the mere thought of it.

Being on the floor with the patrons was a different experience entirely. Up on the stage he was above the people, above the squalor and filth, or so he told himself. It was an odd thought process that he used to keep himself sane in the degrading gig he was somewhat trapped in. If it paid off his debt and kept the creeps from that night away, he would shake his ass for men and women with a smile. Humiliating or not. 

He slid gracefully, as one could being 6’2” in high heels, through crowded tables and gropey men. There were a fair amount of people in the club tonight, which made sense given the weekend and late hours. He forced a smile on his face when one such club goer grabbed his wrist rather abruptly, tugging him backwards where he fell into some horny, drunk man’s lap. 

“Hey babe, where’re you off too in a hurry?”

The only consolation about his position at Quartz Beach was his status as the top earner. He had reigns to be rude to low paying men and women should they turn him off, which to be frank, they all did. Stuart let his smile turn vicious as he looked at the man. His aura went from playful excitement to a dark ominous figure outside the bedroom window on a stormy night. 

“Mind letting go?” Stuart nodded to his wrist. “I don’t fancy breaking your nose.”

Like a switch the man let his arm go, eyes widening a fraction at the reaction he got from Stuart. 

“Thanks _babe_ ,” he snarked while rising to his feet again. The men gawked after him while he strode on, head held high with confidence. 

His approach towards the bar section of the joint was shorter after the incident and soon he was leaning into the deep blue and white marble top of the bar. He fluttered his eyes and gave Murdoc a warm grin, pleased to see the man admiring his figure. His eyes trailed over the deep grey button up, first three buttons undone to reveal chest hair and a white shirt beneath. He let them slip downwards to Murdoc’s pale blue trousers, hugging tight to all the right spots. Blinking deliberately slow, Stuart brought his eyes back to Murdoc’s face. He was aware the detective saw him staring.

“How’re you this fine evening Mr. Faust?” 

A false name, which Murdoc had requested Stuart continue calling him despite having learned the truth. The man was, after all, an undercover detective. The idea alone gave Stuart a small thrill. A few lewd fantasies still hovered in the back of his mind that he had yet to mention.

“In good company, now. Nice performance, one could say you were showing off.” 

“Not at all,” Stuart commented airly. “It’s only my job.”

Murdoc took a sip of his drink, a whiskey on the rocks if Stuart had to guess, and set it aside once he finished his sip. Murdoc watched him quietly, admiring his outfit. He had adorned a black and blue teddy with silk booty shorts in place of bikini cut underwear. The material that fell over his chest was practically see-through. Between the nursing of his drink and heated look, Stuart wondered who would make the first move. He was also curious to know if all cops drank on the job or just Murdoc. He learned of the unorthodox habits the man had over the past while and wouldn’t put it past Murdoc to be the exception to the rule.

“Here to shoot the shit or offer me a peep show, Sparkles?” 

“Pushy.” Stuart pursed his lips, mildly offended their game of cat and mouse was being cut short. He had hoped for a little hype, but Murdoc seemed impatient. He could work with that. “Well, come along _Mr. Faust_ , your velvet room awaits.”

Pushing off from the bar he crooked a finger, eyes half-lidded. Murdoc’s lips quirked and he quickly shot the rest of his drink. He joined Stuart and trailed him towards the back hallway that lead to the private show rooms. It was expensive and quite exclusive being privy to the top earners, even more to be chosen to sit in on a private show. Stuart only had to flash a charming smile to the men standing at the mouth of the alley for them to have permission in.

Stuart took Murdoc’s palm when they hit the hallway, leading him towards a red door at the end of the hallway. Stuart’s private room. Pressing the door open revealed exactly what one would expect in a place such as Quartz Beach. There was velvet lining the walls and thick almost shag carpet covering the floor, and set in the corner was a large round shaped bed. Across from the bed sat a pole and a display case set with various toys and tools for use. Stuart let Murdoc’s hand go and wandered towards the bed, attempting to be seductive by swaying his small hips; however, when he turned he came upon Murdoc reaching himself up towards the camera sat in the corner of the room. 

“What are you doing?” He hissed. 

“Lay on the bed and pretend you’re enticing me.”

Being reminded he was on camera, Stuart swallowed any further retorts. He found acting for Murdoc easy and hastily ran his hands down his body, slow and thoroughly running over each bump and curve of his outfit. He walked backwards carefully, keeping his eyes trained on Murdoc fiddling under the camera.

Keeping up appearances, Stuart fake gasped while rubbing over his thighs. “What are you doing?” He found himself asking a second time.

“Earlier I snuck into the backroom and swapped a few security recordings with loops. Your room included.”

“Christ,” he sighed. “You’re going to get yourself caught if you keep at it.”  
  
“I never get caught.” Murdoc pressed something over the lense, easing down from the small ledge on the wall he used. Once stable he turned towards Stuart. “You look fucking great tonight. Practically lost my focus there.”

He smiled warmly at the detective, heart skipping a beat at the mention. 

“You get all dressed up for me?”

  
  
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Murdoc took a few strides towards him, intent clear on his face. Stuart backed up partly, a little surprised at the change between them. 

“You did,” Murdoc leered. “Course you did. Slut.” 

Had anyone else said it, Stuart was sure his reaction would be to haul off and hit them. Hearing the gravelly tone mutter that term, he shuddered and his cheeks tinted. 

“S’what I thought. How’re we doing this, hm?” 

“I- uh, I figured you could-” Stuart stumbled, throat tight with sudden arousal. It never ceased to blindside him how quickly Murdoc could reduce him to a mess of nonsense. A couple stares basically had him stuttering like a teen with a crush.

“Get on the bed y’slut, clearly you’re incapable of making hard decisions.” 

Stuart swallowed audibly and turned. He yelped, startled, by a firm spank to his bottom.  
  
“Go on, get on the bed. Lay on your back and spread those pretty legs of yours.” 

He resumed his short travel, laying back and spreading his legs as asked of him. He turned his head to watch Murdoc, curious to see where things went. The man in question was by the display case, examining the toys offered. Part of him was beyond aroused at the potential outcomes, another part was mildly nervous. Never had the detective pushed him past his breaking point, always checking in to be sure he was comfortable. It was new to have Murdoc jump right into everything without mentioning it to him, not that he had any complaints. 

His mind wandered, running over multiple scenarios that could play out, toys that Murdoc could use. It didn’t go very far given his lack of imagination when it came to sex. Most patrons were fairly straight forward and often he was either on his back or hands and knees, fake moaning that it felt _amazing_. Things were a little different with Murdoc. Everything was always fresh, exciting and new, he loved each experience. 

“How’re you feeling Stu?” 

_There it was_ , Stuart thought, Murdoc was checking in before having even touched him. 

“Little nervous, but excited.”

“What’s your word tonight?” 

He tried not to be obvious in his voice how fast his arousal spiked at the question. It meant so many things could happen. He hoped his ridiculously quick orgasming didn’t ruin things.

“Pig.”

The small snicker from Murdoc let Stuart know the context of the word wasn’t lost on the detective.

“Eloquent,” Murdoc commented. He spun around with a wide grin and a few smaller items in his hand.

Murdoc approached the bed and set the items beside Stuart. He got a knee up onto the bed between Stuart’s legs. Leaning over Stuart, Murdoc ran a teasing hand along the bare thigh to his right. He shivered under the feather light touches.  
  
“You gonna be behaved?”

Stuart nodded quietly, knowing should he talk he may not get more attention, which at this time he was restless to receive. His thigh was patted, but no more touches came. Murdoc moved up his body and kneeled over him. His wrists were grabbed and pressed down above his head.

“Keep them there.” 

When he made no move to disobey, Murdoc gave him a crooked smile. The detective scooted back until Stuart had to crane his head to see him. An ankle was grasped, followed closely by a hot mouth pressing to the indent by his ankle bone. It continued, traveling up his calf and leaving small nips here or there along his freshly shaved skin. Although it did little to interest him, he relaxed under Murdoc’s kisses, still intrigued where it would go. 

Upon having the wicked mouth and even more devilish tongue reach the crutch of his knee, Stuart squirmed. He was shocked to find it tickled, but also thankful Murdoc left the spot quickly. The mouth slowed, paying special attention to his inner thigh, leaving wider kisses. Heat pooled in his abdomen and again he found himself squirming, though for entirely different reasons. His hips wiggled partly in a feeble attempt to entice Murdoc to hurry on, but the man ignored it. More kisses were pressed to his thigh, up and down, back and forth, all of them avoiding getting any closer to where he wanted it.

He jolted at teeth sinking into his skin. The bite was firm, sure to leave a mark later with bruising. His breath hitched when Murdoc sucked the bite, purposely drawing more blood up to leave it a bright mark on his otherwise unblemished skin. He gasped softly at the light kiss pressed into the small burning patch on his thigh. His cock strained against the flimsy material of his booty shorts, tenting the fabric ridiculously. 

“Figures,” Murdoc breathed against his leg. “Horny little whore.”

He bit at his lip, wincing immediately upon accidentally catching the light bruise there. The spike of pain felt good and bad, almost canceling out his enjoyment of the bite to his thigh. Murdoc seemed to have missed his response and continued his torturous pace. The man flipped up the sheer fabric of his teddy, baring his stomach. Lips worked up over a hip, tongue laving over the jut of bone before teasing its way towards his navel, through his sparse bit of hair. He breathed in, holding it for a brief moment, wishing Murdoc would go downwards. It became apparent that wasn’t the goal as Murdoc kissed his tummy and leaned up. 

“Get on your hands and knees.”

The demand shot a spark of arousal down his back and when he had space, Stuart rolled onto his stomach. Strong hands grabbed his hips and lifted. Stuart flushed and made a small noise of enjoyment at being somewhat roughly manhandled. Murdoc pressed on his lower back until he was arching a bit awkwardly. 

“There we go, best position for a slut like you.”

Pressing his face to the bedding, he muffled the soft moan that slipped out. Palms glided down his sides and over his hips to his backside. Both cheeks were massaged partly before the hands moved down his thighs.

“Got a little surprise for you.” 

Stuart hummed in acknowledgement.

“Managing everything okay?”

Despite the growing pool of heat settled nicely at his groin, Stuart appreciated the check in. His heart pounded in elation and he mumbled quietly, head tilted at an angle. “Very good.” 

His rump was given a firm pat, and then fingers hooked into the waistband of his small shorts. The material was dragged down his backside until they rested at his knees. Completely exposed like this, Stuart shivered and tried to keep from moving too much. He felt vulnerable and without the camera was double so, but found he enjoyed being at Murdoc’s mercy.

“Are you leaking already?” 

Humiliation burned across his face at the softly accusatory tone. He made to press his legs together, shamed at his embarrassingly lack of ability to stave off a potential orgasm. Hands halted his movement and this time he did moan, legs quivering when Murdoc forced them apart once more. 

“None of that.”

“Mh… sorry.”

“You talk when asked too, slut.”

There was a quick swat to his bottom and he whimpered into the bedding. Murdoc reached between his legs and although he was spread wide, he shifted his legs further apart. A hot rush of arousal shot through him when his length was grasped finally. He groaned and unintentionally bucked his hips. Murdoc tsked from behind him and started to work something onto his cock, something tight, but not too tight. 

He gave a small moan of despair when he realized it was a cock ring. It felt wonderful and terrible simultaneously, he twitched when he realized Murdoc was intending to make this a long session.

“Wouldn’t want to end the fun too soon. Given you’re a bloody teenager with your one-touch and go orgasms, figured this was a safe way to extend it.” Murdoc gave his bottom a firm rub as he leaned over, closer to his face. “That okay with you? Don’t wanna overstep.”

“Brilliant,” Stuart murmured breathily. “Play with me all you want, I love it.” 

Hair was swept from his face and Murdoc kissed his temple. “Level of comfort?”

“Quite good. I’ll mention otherwise.” 

“Okay, right back we go.”

Stuart waited, though a little restlessly and if the shifting indicated anything to Murdoc the man didn’t let on. 

Hands smoothed over his backside after letting his dick go, brushing down to his thighs. They moved back to his cheeks, pressing and spreading them. He flustered, which was quickly replaced with a low moan as a tongue swiped over his pucker. Murdoc persisted and kept running it slowly up and down over his anus. It felt incredibly dirty, being so open as he was in his position and being touched somewhere so private. When Murdoc probed inwards, pressing his tongue into him repetitively, he gasped against the bed. He shook and his fingers curled into the bedding. Had it not been for the cock ring he probably would have cum then and there. As it stood, he was leaking and trying to move into the tongue. Lips sealed over his pucker, sucking before finally Murdoc pulled back. 

A finger rubbed over his saliva slicked anus. He shivered when it rubbed over again and again, dipping into him on the third pass. He tried to keep himself muffled, lest he give away how aroused he was. There was a shifting behind him and something small was grabbed from beside him. 

“Doing okay?”

He gave a hum of agreement, his excitement had yet to dull. Murdoc took it as gospel and drizzled some lubricant over his opening, quick to smooth it around and warm it up. Stuart parted his lips and sighed into the sheets when the first finger sunk in. This he was used to, it was simple and easy to grow accustomed to. Murdoc worked the one for a short bit before easing a second finger in, sinking them deeper. He groaned lightly, a hot pressure building in his groin, but unable to go anywhere. When Murdoc kept a sedate pace, using the two fingers to open him, he whined. He rocked his hips partly, eager to have more, more fingers and faster pace. 

“Quit being impatient.”

He gave a frustrated grunt. Murdoc chuckled at his expense, pushing a third finger in. Shifting his knees, Stuart huffed while trying to work himself backwards into the fingers. It irritatingly did nothing to speed up the motion and he could feel Murdoc smirking behind him. The detective rather suddenly removed his fingers and Stuart inhaled, upset at the loss. As was his cock, hard and nearly pressing up to his stomach.

Murdoc gently tapped his side. “On your back.” 

The constant swapping positions confused him, but he obeyed and flipped onto his back. He flushed deep red upon seeing Murdoc was shirtless with his trousers undone. His eyes roved the expanse of skin, pausing to admire the dark chest hair. He hated to admit how jealous he was of the detective, especially over something idiotic like body hair. In some ways he felt somewhat inferior with the lack of hair. Yet, similarly he enjoyed the feel of that hair against his rather hairless body, sliding and grinding. His ears felt hot the longer he thought on his strange little fantasy.

“Looking gorgeous,” Murdoc complimented. He proceeded to remove the silk booty shorts fully. Stuart watched Murdoc lift a leg to kiss at the side of his knee. Having the muscular arm supporting his thigh, a warm hand pressed to his inner thigh, and hot lips kissing the delicate flesh made him blush. This behaviour was more adoring. “Have you all to myself, it’s nice.”

He went beet red and covered his face. The level of affection in the man’s words made something squirm in him. His gut felt fluttery.

“Going to take you apart Stu, leave you an utter mess.”

He exhaled shakily and smiled behind his hands. He really looked forward to that, needed it.

With a free hand, Murdoc grabbed a small clicker, sat to the side and pressed a button. He jolted when the cock ring began vibrating. It was a dull vibration, but enough to make him squirm against the sensation. His leg was lowered after a few more kisses were peppered to his thigh. Murdoc resettled between his legs and leaned down. He pushed the teddy up after it had fallen back into place. Sweet little pecks were littered along his stomach and up to his chest. Murdoc yet again avoided touching his straining erection, he instead continued up to a nipple, kissing it softly. 

His breathing picked up the longer the cock ring buzzed against him. Murdoc was laying kisses here and there, pausing at his nipple to lavish it in special attention. 

“Being a fucking tease,” he muttered breathlessly. 

A firm bite was placed over his nipple and he yelped. His hands shot to Murdoc’s hair, at first grabbing, and then gripping. Some kisses and licks were bestowed upon the abused nub. He felt like thrashing with how long everything was being drawn out. The warm tongue sliding over his sore nipple had him gasping, fingers slightly twisting at dark hair. 

Hands smoothed along his sides, pushing the teddy up towards his armpits and neck. Murdoc pulled up and with quick movements started to assist Stuart out of the clothes. A little part of him was disappointed that he didn’t get adored more in the outfit, but at the same time he was pleased to be nude if it meant Murdoc would hurry up. There was a moment while Murdoc got himself out of his trousers and underpants. He came back over Stuart, a little too quick for Stuart to get a proper chance to admire the other. A kiss to his collar, his jaw then nose, however, Murdoc halted.

Said man examined Stuart’s face and he gingerly brushed his thumb over Stuart’s cheek, right over the concealed bruising there. At this angle he could see Murdoc’s brow draw up in concern. 

“Did he do this?” 

The sudden softness was unexpected and he raised a brow in silent question. Murdoc left a kiss at his cheek, ever so carefully. 

“The bruise, Stu. Did Hector do it?” 

“Ah, you can see that?” Stuart wondered if his makeup had smudged or came off in the bedding. It wouldn’t be a surprise given it was done rather hastily. 

Murdoc nodded minutely in answer, hair bobbing with the motion. 

“Then… yes,” he mumbled.

A look of discomfort passed over Murdoc’s face, briefly, and then he sighed. Before Stuart could probe Murdoc about the abrupt change in pace, the detective was lifting Stuart’s legs. Resting over Murdoc’s hips gave the older man easier access to rub their dicks together. It felt electric, finally having some sort of friction against him. He forgot momentarily about the previous question and rocked his hips upwards, seeking more. They rutted against one another for a bit, which annoyingly made him aware he couldn’t reach that sweet, sweet release. He groaned and went to reach between them only to have Murdoc stop him. His arm was pushed back and Murdoc gave him a mischievous grin.

“Hold your horses pretty-boy.” 

“Taking so long,” he whined back. 

Murdoc leaned close and murmured against his lips, “patience is a virtue love.” 

It was a hard kiss, teeth mashing lips slightly causing him to wince. Instead of letting Murdoc pull from him he dragged him closer for a messier kiss. The spots of pain from his mouth took the edge of desperation away from him. He still needed to cum, but for a short minute or two it wasn’t pressing at him. They parted with little huffs and Stuart smiled up at Murdoc. A few more softer kisses were shared before Murdoc reached between them to grab himself, positioning differently. There was a bit of nudging against his slick opening and he immediately relaxed himself. 

“You good?” 

“Yes.” 

Murdoc gave a firm roll of his hips and pressed in part way. He grabbed at the bed, clutching the bedding tight. They shared a look and it was enough for Murdoc to keep going, sinking deeper into him. He exhaled a long stream of air and tried to lift a leg, giving Murdoc more leverage. The man brought the leg to his side as he thrusted roughly, sinking into him until their bodies met. He arched his head, neck on display, and gasped sharply. 

It felt fantastic, annoying so, and Stuart wished the torture would end. His leg was groped as Murdoc held his weight with the other arm. The detective took a deep breath before pulling out half way and slamming back in with a snap of his hips. 

“Ahh-”

The pace began casual, a couple hard thrusts and long pauses between. It was maddening and Stuart found himself whining more, softly begging for release. Still, Murdoc refused and only kept on, sweat developing across his brow and body. The rise and fall of his impending orgasm drove him wild as he tried to rock himself back into each thrust, frantic for the edge, the end. Murdoc eventually let his leg go and used that arm to support himself as he pressed closer to Stuart. 

He trailed his free hand over Stuart’s sternum and followed up towards the collar bone. His eyes fluttered when he realized where the palm was going. He gripped at Murdoc’s arm, dragging the detective’s hand the rest of the way. They had yet to experiment fully with choking, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t thrill him.   
  


  
  


“Yeah?” Murdoc asked a bit out of breath.

“Yes,” he panted back. 

Fingers dug into the sides of his throat, pinching almost instead of squeezing. Stuart found he could still breath enough, but the pressure was there, tantalizing him. Murdoc worked his hips a bit faster, thrusting just that bit harder. The movement caused him to rock slightly with the force of his hips hitting Stuart. He let a weak moan out, smiling up at the detective. His cheeks were flushed red and the longer it went the more dizzy he got with pleasure, and lack of proper air. 

“Wanna cum? Hm?” 

He closed his eyes and gave a stuttered groan when his prostate was hit. His mouth fell open when it happened again and again. His orgasm was building up again and this time he wanted it, _needed_ it. 

“Yes, _yes_ … Please, yes.” His words were starting to slur with his delirium. Murdoc gave him a sloppy kiss, palm tightening about his throat. He felt over stimulated as he attempted to kiss back, more drooling than kissing. 

Murdoc brought himself up, squeezing his neck incrementally more. “Take it off.” 

His hands sluggishly moved down and fiddled feebly at the cock ring, whining at the shock of heat touching himself brought. The thrusts got rougher, angling to hit his prostate more incessantly. For a moment his hands stopped as he keened into Murdoc’s thrusting, silently gasping for it to never stop. 

“Cum for me ye’ slut, c’mon.” 

Finally his fingers managed to draw the cock ring off. Almost immediately his orgasm crashed over him violently. His hips jerked and he gasped desperately for air as the pleasure seemed to never end, washing through him in waves. He barely noticed Murdoc fucking him through his orgasm or the utter mess he made on his stomach. He did however notice the hand being drawn away from his throat and the influx of air he was able to take in. If anything it drew the orgasm out and he shuddered when Murdoc seemed to stop against him.

There was a grunt from above him when he started to come back to himself. He blinked dazedly at Murdoc, slowly giving him a dopey grin. The detective gave him a warm look, one filled with a fair amount of affection, followed by a lopsided smile of his own. 

Murdoc fell into him lightly and they kissed languidly, enjoying the closeness. He tried to convey all the euphoric emotions still lingering in his body, his happiness and adoration for the older man all in one simple kiss. They only drew apart to shift their bodies into a more comfortable position. Stuart didn’t even mind the mess he was covered in while resting back into the pillows with Murdoc. With the relaxation came the previous thoughts and questions that Stuart felt, now, was a more appropriate time to ask. 

“What was all that earlier?” 

“Which?” Murdoc gently tugged his leg up so he was half on the man.

“The camera stuff and getting all sappy about my bruises. Y’know Hector can be a bit _heavy handed_.”

Murdoc gave a decidedly less than pleased grunt at hearing the Quartz Beach owner’s name. “I don’t gotta like it. Man’s a prick, deserves a bullet between the eyes.”

“Fair enough,” Stuart agreed. “Still doesn’t explain your mission impossible stuff earlier. What’re you doing sneaking into restricted areas?” 

“Look, I do have a job aside from you. Not to say this isn’t enjoyable, it certainly is. Man needs to let off steam once in a while.” 

“Oh of course,” he grumbled. “Stupid me.”

“Stu.”

Stuart sighed and slumped into Murdoc a little heavily. He rested his face on Murdoc’s shoulder and brought a hand up to pet at the hairy, sweaty chest. The detective pecked his head, pressing a cheek to Stuart’s hair. 

“Why won’t you let me take you from here, Stu? What’s holding you back?” 

The question had come up many times before and each time Stuart had deflected. He didn’t need to wind Murdoc in his messy situation, he didn’t need to get the cop hurt. He didn’t want to examine why that was, he knew exactly why. He swallowed against the abrupt line of thinking. 

“It’s him, yeah? He’s keeping you here.” Murdoc sounded agitated.

“Murdoc please leave it.This isn’t something you can _fix_ okay? It’s my problem.”

For a minute they were quiet. The silence made him fidget so Murdoc quickly filled it with talking. 

  
“I need to monitor the comings and goings of your boss, that’s why I snuck into the camera room.”

This was more familiar territory that Stuart welcomed. He perked up and paused his hand on Murdoc’s chest. “You suspect Hector then?”

“I suspect everyone, downside of being a cop. You're all criminals,” Murdoc added the last part teasingly. 

“Me? Definitely. What kinda crimes did I commit though? That’s the real question.”

There was no hesitation from Murdoc. “Stealing my heart.”

A long silence passed before Stuart and Murdoc both broke out into laughs. Stuart snorted and shoved at Murdoc playfully. Despite the tight feeling in his chest, the flurry of butterflies in his stomach, Stuart played it off as a joke. He didn’t want to delve into his nerves about the arrangement, how he wanted so much more. How he wanted to go with Murdoc and play house. Above everything else, he didn’t want to admit how fast he had fallen down the rabbit hole.   
  


  
  


Or how fast he fell in love with the older man. Acceptance would mean heartbreak. Should he admit it, confess it, all would be lost. He would surely suffer the consequences by Hector’s hand. 

He just needed to keep his head down, grin and put up with the constant onslaught, dreaming of a different situation. He smiled as he listened to Murdoc launch into a new topic, something to do with his job on the force. 

For now this was enough.

  
  


🧩 🧩 🧩


	3. First Contact: Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things were rocky and things were not so good, but maybe they could recover from all of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has major major spoiler warnings for scenes that will crop up in First Contact the official story. If you don't mind spoiling things for you, by all means go ahead and read. However, if you like surprises and want to hold off, don't read this chapter! 
> 
> I wrote this as a gift for a friend who enjoys angst and romance. There's a lot of focus on repair and betrayal in this with sprinklings of love and healing. Yes there's a little sex, but it doesn't take front seat in the mess that's going on, it's more a part of what's occurring!
> 
> As usual: Please be 18+ if you plan to read this as there is NSFW art present.

_  
  
To my amazing friend Sera _

_Thank you for being a supportive friend and overall so kind to me. This is my small way of thanking you for your continued friendship and camaraderie. Your artwork and companionship over the past year and more have been very cherished. I hope you enjoy the story and artwork. I also hope you are taking care of yourself._

_I picked this AU for you as you showed a fairly decent amount of interest and I figured you might like having some angst with hints of romance.  
_

_Without further ado:_

**BROKEN**

💔 💔 💔

Being found and consequently _escorted_ back to Stalien’s parent’s estate left him feeling mildly humiliated. As though he were a misbehaving child. The ride back was painfully quiet, to the point of hearing a slight ringing in his ears. Despite the swirl of broody emotions between them, Murdoc took comfort in the faint noise, it gave him something to focus on aside from Stalien staring intently.

  
  
  


The glimmering city-scape slowly vanished behind the deep red-white birch tree look-alike forest until the familiar grounds surrounded them. His body tensed as though preparing to run. He caught Stalien eyeing him mournfully. Without their telepathic connection, Murdoc was unsure how the other felt or what he thought of his reaction. Not that he was interested in knowing.

Their travel pod halted in front of the grandiose estate entrance and the sleek glass slid open to let them out. Murdoc hesitated, unsure if he wanted to join his alien partner or flee into the city again. 

“Murdoc, please,” Stalien stepped from the transportation, voice pleading. The deep blue, nearly black eyes scanned his face quietly.

Heaving a great sigh of reluctance, Murdoc exited the pod as well, joining Stalien. They both walked towards the entrance, but it felt more like walking to his doom. He took a final deep breath before entry and only exhaled once the door closed behind him.

Stalien rested a palm over his shoulder, a gentle reminder they needed to speak. The alien directed him towards their shared quarters down the right wing of the estate. Murdoc eyed the ordinate decorations lining the massive hall while they walked in silence. 

No matter the many times they had walked this hall, Murdoc found something new to focus on. He felt the eyes on him, the intent stare digging into his shoulders. He hated how uncomfortable it made him. He hoped this song and dance was a quick prelude to his next attempt at escapism.

💔 💔 💔

Stalien looked incredibly irate with him, something he rarely observed directed at him. The pink alien was clenching his jaw, arms crossing and uncrossing while he paced. They were back within the four walls of Stalien’s oversized room. An enormously sized place beyond his wildest dreams. It had a ridiculous amount of space and other various unnecessary things. Part of Murdoc considered this on par to dating a rich guy, but he doubted Stalien even understood the difference between poor and rich, or even the implications of being rich.

“Why are you doing these things?”

And so started the barrage of questioning. He contemplated remaining silent as he was prone to every so often, or potentially exploding. The latter was starting to sound appealing the more Stalien paced. He could practically feel the irritation radiating off the pink extraterrestrial, which only fueled his own anger.

“Why Murdoc? Why are you being obstinate?” 

He nearly laughed, hysterically, at the notion it was him being obstinate. It wasn’t as though he had put himself in this situation in any capacity. 

“Am I not a good mate?”

There were many ways he could respond to that question. Ways he could needle into Stalien’s feelings and hurt him, make the alien feel an ounce of pain he experienced every morning. Sure, some days were good and they got on well, but then some days were horrid. Utterly black days where he resented the alien for tearing him away from Earth. 

His perfectly formed mental block, the one damming back his anger, bubbling up every day, finally cracked. The dead look of indifference splintered away until he felt himself rise from the bed. His body ran on autopilot and suddenly he was shaking. He was sure the eruption would be phenomenal.

“Why? Y’wanna know _why_ ?”  
  
  
  
Apparently surprised to receive a response, Stalien halted and stared down at him. Murdoc grit his teeth, fighting to keep himself from blowing up entirely too fast. He feared he would fizzle out rapidly if he blew his top in one go, it felt like it was far too late to stop it though. 

“You! You’re my problem! You jus’ think **kidnapping** me and trapping me on your godforsaken planet is some stupid grand romantic gesture of the century! News-fucking-flash, it’s not.” 

Stalien gawked at him, momentarily stunned to complete silence. Murdoc used the opportunity to menacingly stalk, as much as his rather small stature allowed, towards Stalien, pointing aggressively at the alien. Somehow the posturing worked and Stalien backed up a step or two, mildly unsure how to respond.  
  
  
  
“What part of this whole situation screams nice? What part of any of this is good in your pea-brained head, Stalien? You **took** me from my goddamn _planet_!” 

“B-but you are my mate,” Stalien mumbled in answer, as though his words would solve everything Murdoc was managing emotionally and mentally. If anything it only fueled his rage further. 

“What does that **MEAN** ? What does that even entail? It means SHIT to me when you dance around these topics and expect me to be _okay_ about it. I am so fucking _mad_ at you and you still don’t get it!”

“Then explain it!” 

“You prick, the utter gall you have to demand I explain myself.”

Despite the cold draft wafting in the open windows, Murdoc felt as though it were mid day in the Sahara desert. It only took him a moment before he was pacing. He clenched his fists and relaxed as he continuously wandered back and forth. Stalien watched on, jaw tense and body rigid, as though the alien expected a physical fight. No matter how far gone into his anger, Murdoc was thoroughly aware he had no chance against Stalien, it didn’t stop him thinking it might be a good idea. 

“Did you even consider my feelings? How this would affect me? At all?” His breaths were harsh as was his tone. He shot a glare towards the alien, goading him into arguing back. 

“You think I **like** being trapped like a fucking pretty bird in a cage on your planet? Trussed up in jewellery or makeup, like a fucking show-dog?”

When Stalien remained quiet, but flinched, Murdoc knew he hit a nerve. Their near broken bond didn’t allow for him to see the hurt or feel it, but he knew that his words were, at the least, stinging. 

“I hate it here,” he muttered.

“What can I do to make things easier? There must be something I can do to make you happier?”

“NO.” Murdoc stopped and shouted, voice wavering, “No! You can’t make it better! Nothing can make this better! That’s the goddamn point. You’ve wrecked it all.”

“Then what?” The alien stepped forward one step, voice raising again. “What am I to do to fix this?”

Murdoc only realized after a moment of being paused that the dizziness and tickles of discomfort through his vibrating body was due to the too much oxygen. He inhaled deeply and attempted to stave off the impending crash. He struggled a moment under Stalien’s firm stare to find equilibrium as the slight vertigo struck hard. The anger remained, but he forced his body to settle, his voice coming out smaller and softer.

“Nothing. There is nothing you can do that would ever make up for this.”

There was a strike of intense pain that shuddered through him at the core, that resonated with his own anguish. He knew it belonged to Stalien and instead of feeling a great victory he felt… hollow. Stalien heaved a great, deep sigh of sadness. His shoulders drooped as his mouth parted. 

“I should not yell, I apologize. Please, have a seat. We can talk calmly.”

Murdoc looked up with narrowed eyes, which were a little unfocused. They were at a stand still until finally after a long stubborn silence, Murdoc replanted himself on the inordinately huge bed. He was grateful to be seated again, it took the edge of dizziness away.

“By all means, talk.”

Murdoc spat his words. He crossed his arms and eyed the alien with a critical look, waiting in silence. Stalien wet his lips, his four hands fidgeting awkwardly.

  
  
 **'Our bond is in disrepair Murdoc.'**

His eyebrows drew tighter as he felt his glower intensify. Stalien squirmed under his stern gaze and it was a small victory. However, Stalien pushed on and continued his internal speaking.

**'I know things have been less than ideal and I am sorry about that.'**

"Maybe if you hadn't snatched me off my _bloody_ planet, things wouldn't be such a mess."

"Yes, I know. You’re right, I’m sorry." 

Murdoc grunted. He hated the way Stalien used contractions, how it reminded him of Earth. It wasn't cute anymore. Since the alien had essentially kidnapped him from Earth, no matter how pitiful his life, things had been altered drastically. It upset him in ways he didn’t want to voice, how broken his trust was. Still, he refrained from putting up his blocks despite how angry he was.

There was a hesitance from Stalien as the alien fidgeted. Murdoc finally spared him a look, confused by the sudden nervousness rolling off the other. Stalien struggled to continue in the silence. “Our bond is broken and to repair such mental injury our people usually mate.”

Murdoc blanched. His words came faster than his thoughts.

"Why do we _have_ to mate for this shit? If y'hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly rearing to have a go with you."

The alien winced, eyes looking to the ground a moment.

**'Our bond is fractured. To repair the mental damage we need to be intimate and... in our society there is no greater form of intimacy than sexual intimacy.'**

"Could'a fooled me." 

Stalien looked at him again, his large galaxy flecked eyes looking mournful.

**'We're secretive about it, as it is rather sacred. Murdoc please, we have to fix this or you will only get sicker.'**

Groaning in exasperation, he looked away and frowned into the middle distance. Scrubbing a hand over his face he winced at catching a self-inflicted bruise. He felt rather than saw when Stalien mentally cringed, sympathetic to his pain. It became apparent then and there that despite his irritant attitude and rational frustrations, Stalien honestly cared. 

"So, we fuck. Then what?" 

**'You mean we mate.'**

"Same difference." 

**'No... uh, not really."**

Murdoc grumbled, dragging his eyes back to Stalien, eyeing the larger set of galaxy-like eyes. 

"What do you mean, _not really_? Mating is jus' sex, yeah?" 

Stalien picked at his outfit, seemingly more nervous. 

**'Well, yes, but mating normally entails dressing the more docile mate, painting them with specialty inks.... and having sex for a while in the ceremonial mating room. It's, it uh, it's the most intimate location for our kind to mate.'**

Letting the words sink in, Murdoc pinched at the bridge of his crooked nose. ‘For a while’? Elaborate." 

**'Days. Normally five. maybe four or six, give or take the level of damage in our bond.'**

Although it was completely spoken through their mental link, Stalien's voice mimicked the patterns of a nervous person. Tapering off at the end and then looking sheepish, Stalien watched him for his reaction. 

"I... five days? What?" 

**'I know it is long, but I would tend to you and take care of any discomfort you experienced.'**

" _Five days_." Murdoc cupped his face in open palms and looked at the floor. "Five days." 

**'I am not sure how repeating the same words assists you in comprehending the information... I assure you I am a most capable mate, I will make everything comfortable and enjoyable.'**

"Five days though?" Murdoc looked at Stalien, distraught. "Five?" 

**'...Yes, five days.'**

Stalien appeared frustrated, his patterned brows pinching. Murdoc whined pitifully and covered his face. 

"Oh my god,” Murdoc mumbled. “Why the fuck is it five days? Why is this even happening right now?”  
  
  
  
There was an open invitation for Stalien to respond, but miraculously, or by sheer dumb luck, the alien remained mute on the answer hovering in the air.

“There is a high level of damage to our bond, you have cut me out numerous times and created a backlash. If we don’t repair things, it could mean one of us becomes fatally ill. Normally it is the weaker of the two that passes in a broken bond.”

Murdoc eyed Stalien and snapped, “you mean me, so fucking say it.”

“Yes, I mean you,” Stalien sighed heavily. “The bond between mates, it’s rather delicate. Although our people aren’t open in public about these things, they are incredibly serious. Very important to us.” Stalien finally seated himself, opposite Murdoc, on a decorative stool. 

He took a great breath before continuing. “What we have between us is important and I… I didn’t think of your feelings when I took you. In my mind it was either I stay and be killed by your government or bring you with me. I didn’t want to leave you behind Murdoc, and put you in harm's way. You’re my mate and that alone in my culture is an immense sign of love and affection, it means that above my own kind, I want to be with you.”

Despite how infuriated he was, how mad, Murdoc felt his heart flutter. The very idea of being adored, of being so deeply wanted, played into his desire to be craved; something he had not thought of for a long time. He frowned at the ground, feeling warm in the face, as he fought the barrage of pleasant thoughts away. 

“Murdoc,” Stalien inched towards him, voice soft, “Star, please let me fix this. Let me fix things and prove to you I care. I want to make things better between us.”

It was tempting to be lulled into the security blanket Stalien’s words created. He even caught the pet name drop, how quickly it got his heart skipping a beat. He desperately wanted to be swept up in the summer romance everything had sort of started as, regardless of how cheesy it sounded. The heated moments between musty blankets, the constant reassurances and gentle affection. 

Murdoc started, thoughts stopping abruptly. Stalien seated himself beside Murdoc on the bed, his weight creating a dip that Murdoc leaned into unintentionally.

“Allow me to prove my apologies with actions, please.”

He watched, cautious, as Stalien lifted a hand and held it out. It was a silent offer, an olive branch. Murdoc knew if they touched, skin to skin, he wouldn’t be capable of backing out. He knew he would sink into the familiarity of their bond and the pleasant buzz of affection. This was something he needed to be 100% sure of before he accepted.

“Please Murdoc.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, anxious. His anger lingered, but his anxiety filled the forefront of his mind as he stared at the palm. 

“If I do this you need to explain shit. I don’t care if it’s awkward or stupid, you have to tell me things.” He paused a moment before tacking on, “and- and check in, I mean make sure shit is okay before doing it, yeah?”

Stalien shifted away from the bed to pivot and kneel in front of Murdoc. His form though hunched still came off as imposing. Murdoc stared into Stalien’s main eyes warily. Even after everything that had transpired between them, he still found the face in front of him deeply attractive.

“I will be more vocal for you, no detail will be left out.” Stalien held his palm out once more. “May I hold your hand? To show you I’m serious.”

Lifting his much smaller hand, Murdoc slowly eased it into Stalien’s larger palm. The contact created an intense wave of connection mentally. His mind was filled with the faintly familiar sensation of adoration and soothing cover of emotions. His body relaxed in the face of the feelings and Stalien smiled gently. The alien very cautiously brought Murdoc’s hand up to kiss the palm adoringly. It was incredibly soft and Murdoc watched Stalien intently, heart pounding.

“I have missed you so dearly, Murdoc.”

Murdoc swallowed, body following Stalien’s instruction to stand from the bed. His mind was beginning to get the hazy sensation he remembered acutely from the start. It cocooned his mind easily, which was so unlike the mental connection with an inert.

“I’m serious,” he muttered. “Leave nothing unsaid or I’ll raise hell.”

**‘I will gain your approval for anything I do. May I lift you?’**

Murdoc huffed, his heart fluttering. “Yeah, fine. May as well.”

No matter how many times he was scooped off his feet, Murdoc always experienced a small bout of terror. It passed moderately fast as Stalien held him close, cupping the back of his head with one hand while the others hugged him closer. It was, in his opinion, one of the most intimate feelings, being cradled.

**‘I missed this. I missed being able to hold you close, Murdoc.’**

Part of him wanted to agree, he had missed the close contact. Affection felt like a distant memory given the months of despair and constant anger. He closed his eyes and sunk into the hug, looping his own arms around the alien’s shoulders. Stalien breathed in and buried his face against his thick messy hair.  
  
  
  
He felt movement as the alien walked towards a large vanity. He watched it grow closer, eyes trained to the oval mirror perched in crystal holders. Stalien looked up some to stare at their reflection. 

**‘Can I adorn you in the paints and inks?’**

“What are those for?”  
  
  
  
Stalien looked at Murdoc’s face in the mirror, catching his eyes. 

**‘It’s a show of great reverence and love to paint a mate in specialty inks, to adorn you with the marks of my family.’**

Murdoc watched the galaxy flecked eyes in their reflection, his mind whirring with thoughts and sensations. It was the first time in months that he could feel Stalien’s hearts, his emotions, and as any other time they shared a connection, Stalien kept the feelings from being completely overwhelming. It still felt like too much after a lengthy silence in their bond. 

He realized Stalien was waiting for a response, and after a moment he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Okay.”

**‘You are approving?’**

“Yeah.”

A blip of giddiness filtered through their bond and Murdoc, despite himself, internally felt a small bump of happiness. He remained neutral on the surface, a skill he had acquired after enough time around stiff, blank-faced Nee’tians. 

Stalien lowered him and had him sit on the chair facing away from the mirror. A large palm rested on his clothed shoulder and almost immediately Murdoc knew what would be asked next.

**‘Your clothes… May I change them? To something more traditional?’**

He inhaled and gathered up all his negative feelings, his spite and frustration and exhaled it out with some force. Even though he felt helpless where he was, he knew Stalien would respect his wishes should he make them known. Closing his eyes he slowly allowed his body to relax, shoulders slumping some. 

“Yes.”  
  
  
  
His alien partner gave a soft hum of approval and in a matter of moments the nearly human-esque outfit dissipated and reshaped to something more feminine, more revealing. Murdoc swallowed and kept his eyes on the ground, an awkward bubble of nervousness sitting in his throat at the change of clothing. He knew, from his _Family Lessons_ with the head servant, that this was tradition among Nee’tian couples. He breathed deeply and eased the nerves he had built to focus on Stalien moving around him. 

The cool draft against his bare skin made him mildly uncomfortable and cold. He shivered a little, but didn’t complain outwardly. Stalien seemed to read it off him regardless and was quick to step away to draw all the curtains. It was a small thing, but the temperature rose enough to be decent for him.

**‘The ceremonial bonding chamber is warmer, I promise.’** **  
  
  
****  
**“Good to know,” Murdoc commented.

Stalien grabbed a blue crystalline jar with a black lid and pulled up a seat in front of Murdoc. Once seated he smiled tentatively at Murdoc as he held the jar up for Murdoc to see.  
  
  
  
 **‘This is ceremonial ink, or paint, and we use it to decorate our mates’ with markings similar to our family patterns.’** Stalien opened the container and tilted it to show Murdoc the contents, which was a deep violet colour. **‘Purple is considered a high-end colour.’**

That was one thing Murdoc could mark down as similar to humans. He looked from the jar to Stalien’s face. 

“Okay. Where does it go?” Murdoc motioned to himself. “I mean, on me, where does it go?”

**‘Where I feel it’s necessary to have it. Is it okay to paint you?’**

Despite his reservations, Murdoc nodded. 

**‘You can’t touch it after I paint it on, let it dry.’**

With the alien seated opposite him, he gently dipped a finger into the paint, eyes lifting to glance at Murdoc. He hesitated a moment before he trailed his eyes to Murdoc’s legs, now bare from mid thigh and down. Leaning down some, Stalien went to work on adding gentle, curved markings on Murdoc’s feet, ankles, knees and up. He paused to gather more paint on his finger and resumed at Murdoc’s bony hips. It tickled a little, but Murdoc managed to stay still while he watched the process quietly.

When Stalien halted, Murdoc peered at him through his bangs, confused.

**‘Can you stand for me? I need to add marks to the back of your legs and torso… please?’**

He quietly stood from the seat and awkwardly plucked at the flimsy materials covering his body. Stalien returned to painting him, trailing marks all along his back and to his shoulders. 

It was a somewhat long process and although hesitant at first, Murdoc slowly eased into the comforting sensation of fingers dancing over his body in small swipes. It felt interesting being adorned. The alien came to stand directly in front of him once more. At a loving look and nod of his head, Murdoc silently took the prompt and sat. 

**‘Can I paint your face?’**

“Yes.”

Stalien gave him a warm look while seating himself again. The way Stalien observed him while painting his face made him feel weirdly shy. There was a strong trickle of unadulterated affection directed towards him as Stalien lightly painted lines on his face. When he pulled away to look him over, Murdoc fidgeted. 

**‘You look gorgeous.’**

Breaking eye contact, Murdoc stared at the floor awkwardly. He felt a hand brushing his neck and lips on his forehead.

“I will prepare the chamber, just allow the paint to dry, okay?”

Stalien gave him another peck to his unpainted forehead. He put the jar aside and turned to step out of the large room, leaving Murdoc completely alone with his thoughts. He turned slowly to look at himself in the large mirror, mildly surprised at what he saw. He wasn’t a vain man by any means, but the purple complimented him decently. 

There were marks along his jawline, the sides of his nose and on his lips trailing down over his chin. He lifted a finger to touch, but halted himself upon remembering not to touch. They didn’t feel wet, but he wasn’t sure how long it took to dry. It was odd seeing his face looking back, dressed oddly.

He didn’t recognize himself anymore. It felt as though the Murdoc from Earth was a faint apparition to the man staring back at himself. So much time had passed.

“I have finished the chamber.”

Stalien appeared behind him with a small smile on his normally blank face. For a second or two, Murdoc examined the alien’s features, really looking at the creature. There was a light buzz of closeness he felt for the other. He knew Stalien, or liked to think he knew him, with a sort of reserved fondness. Their tumultuous relationship had formed out of desperation back on Earth. He was lonely and so very lost, he had a strong desire to find happiness, born from a miserable, drab existence in Stoke. 

A pink hand came to his neck, speckled knuckles gently running along his throat. Even with all his buried fury, Murdoc still enjoyed the intimacy. 

**‘Are… are you okay, Murdoc? Aside from the obvious.’**

Murdoc spoke with reluctance, voice drawn, “I keep thinking about Earth. About what we were there.”

He gestured to his reflection and sneered partly at his face. 

“I don’t recognize him. It isn’t me.”

**‘I don’t understand, of course it’s you, Murdoc.’**

Four palms settled to different spots, two shoulders, one cupping his head and another in his hair. Stalien leaned down to his level to look in the mirror at them.

**‘I know things are** **_different_ ** **now, but you are still you, Murdoc. You are still my lovely, human mate. That hasn’t changed.’**

“Can we--” Murdoc closed his eyes, his breath slowing as he dredged up long ago memories of the shack. He exhaled as he tried to share them with stalien, disjointed as their bond was. “I want to pretend we’re still here… That we never left. Can you do that for me? Please?” 

There was a delay from Stalien as the alien seemingly mulled the request over. 

**‘Keep your eyes closed for me, okay? Stand slowly.’**

He felt unstable standing with his eyes closed, but he managed to do so without stumbling over the stool. Stalien took his palms and carefully maneuvered him away from the round cushioned seat. 

There was a breeze suddenly, subtle and carrying the scent of leaves. Murdoc shrunk away from the sound of a car driving by, real and loud in his ears. 

**‘Open your eyes love.’**

And he did. 

The space around them had become an overcast day in Stoke. The forest mouth stood just behind Stalien, slightly offset from their place near the road. Murdoc looked down at himself and found his ratty black jeans and leather coat firmly in place just as he remembered. He could feel the coolness of the late Spring day. 

“We will be spotted if we stand here too long,” Stalien commented. He held his palm out to Murdoc, inviting the man to take it with a small adoring smile.

Murdoc took the hand as he felt his lips tugging up at the corner. For then and there he could forget everything that had happened. He could pretend they were happy, young and stupidly in love.

Stalien gently led Murdoc through the room to the door, all the while projecting the visuals of the forest and worn trail in Stoke. Murdoc kept looking around, eyes seeing a false image. His spirits rose gradually as they continued walking. It was as though Murdoc wanted to enjoy every instance in the fantasy so they walked slower. 

Eventually Murdoc saw the ragged little shack, barely standing and covered in moss from disuse and weathering. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of being back where it all began.

“It is… messy, I was examining some documents from the facility. I may be close to finding my ship,” Stalien supplied, furthering the fantasy for Murdoc, as they grew nigh to the little building. “Please excuse that.”

“Whatever mate, I don’t mind a little mess. Practically thrive in it.”

Stalien’s breath hitched. It had been so very long since Murdoc sounded as carefree as he did in that moment. The alien swallowed quietly and nodded silently. Murdoc gave the larger palm an affectionate squeeze. 

The alien reached forward and pushed the door open, it opened a little too easily from what murdoc remembered, but he ignored that in favour of stepping ahead. He let Stalien’s hand go and entered the ceremonial bonding room. His eyes saw the messy internal workings of the shack, papers and documents lay strewn across the floor and the rickety bed sat in the corner unkempt.

Stalien followed him in and closed the door softly. 

“Let me _spruce_ the place up for you.” 

While Murdoc took in the space, Stalien got the incense device set and waved a hand to trigger the fairy type lighting until the space was glowing a soft orange. He fed the imagery of him setting a fire in the little fire burning stove to get the orange glow and warm smell of fire.

“What do you do during the day when I ain't here?”

Stalien straightened. “I read and pour over documents from your people.” He turned to look at Murdoc. “But that is unimportant. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Murdoc smiled tentatively.

Stalien came closer and crouched in front of him. He took Murdoc’s hands and brought them up to give little kisses to each palm.

“I am so happy to hear that Murdoc.”

The kisses didn’t stop there, they continued along Murdoc’s one wrist. 

**‘May I remove your coat?’**

“Yeah,” Murdoc hummed. It wasn’t real, but it felt real enough.

Stalien smiled and gingerly emulated the gestures and physical feel of helping Murdoc remove his coat in the fantasy. He leaned in to kiss along Murdoc’s bare arm with a soft hum of content. 

“Missed me, eh?”

The alien closed his eyes tight a moment, struggling to keep the warm fuzzy atmosphere of the dream visuals. It hurt knowing how much everything had changed, how much he had ruined for Murdoc. 

**‘Desperately, Murdoc. I miss you every day. Wish you would stay longer and keep me company.’**

He knew it was a little out of character for his younger self to say, but he couldn’t hold back from saying it regardless. Murdoc seemed to let the slip up pass. The man brought his hands up, cupping Stalien’s face, rubbing his thumbs along his cheeks. Stalien exhaled shakily, relishing in the sensation of unfettered affection. Murdoc kissed his forehead between his smaller eyes, and then trailed feather like kisses down the bridge of his long, flat nose. It was everything Stalien wanted, had missed so dearly from his human mate.

“I know how I can make it up to you.” 

Even if there was a little fantasy spiel running along in his head, Murdoc was fully aware of where he was. He turned and moved to have his back to the bed and scooped up Stalien’s main set of hands. With slow deliberate steps he urged the alien to his feet and backed up towards the bond chamber bed. 

“Missed you too, love. Been a long time.”

Once the back of his legs touched the bed, Murdoc maneuvered himself backwards up onto the bonding bed. He scooted back on his knees until Stalien was at the edge. He swallowed and settled his hidden nerves.

“You can bring us back, Spots, I’m ready.”

Stalien breathed in, a shuddery noise. Slowly the fantasy melted away to reveal a warmly lit white room with silken drapery surrounding the bed. The orange fairy lights covered the walls and ceiling, giving the room an appearance of a sort of round cave. Murdoc could smell the incense burning, filling the room with the scent of something akin to a fireplace. 

**‘The scent is meant to help relax us and put us in a better mood.’**

“Like an aphrodisiac?”

**‘Similar, yes.’** Stalien slid a knee up onto the bed as he leaned closer to Murdoc, galaxy eyes focusing on him more intently. **‘The lighting is meant to set the mood.’**

“That makes sense,” Murdoc commented. “Like a fancy restaurant.”

Stalien moved further onto the bed. He lightly set a hand at Murdoc’s waist as he pressed his upper body to Murdoc’s torso. It was a subtle pressure, but it still had Murdoc’s nerves in a frenzy. He worked his jaw, trying to find something to discuss. Instead he found himself slowly manhandled, gently, onto his back.

**‘The bedding and curtains are to give the appearance of a romantic setting. Having comfort is also a bonus.’** The alien hovered over Murdoc on all six. **‘Your heart is beating fast, are you scared?’**

“No,” Murdoc cleared his throat. “No, it’s more I’m nervous. It’s been a while. I feel a little overdressed for the situation. I feel ridiculous to be honest.”

Stalien cocked his head. **‘You look beautiful. You always have and always will. I promise I will not rush you, we can take all the time you need.’**

It was gradual.  
  
Stalien led into slow, languid kissing first, something that brought strong emotions to the surface; emotions of affection, love and something more carnal. Murdoc eased into it, enjoying the tentative way the alien kissed, and then how it evolved into something far more sensual. His heart pounded in excitement as he became more and more relaxed. 

Hands trailed his body, gently teasing along the sheer materials of his bond-mate clothing. It tickled in a wholly pleasant manner and he leaned into the touches with small muffled noises. Stalien only broke their kisses to admire him openly, smiling a little coyly. There was a soft smudge of purple on Stalien’s dark pink lips, that Murdoc noticed; a spark of arousal pooled in his abdomen.

Heat was building, not a rush like the times in their youth, but more a gradual sensation. It spread from his core until it filled him completely with a pleasant warmth. Stalien kissed each cheek and then his nose before disappearing into the crook of his neck and shoulder. When lips pressed down on the faded bond mark, a few years old now, Murdoc got a spike of arousal. Instinctively he grabbed at the broad shoulders and gripped when Stalien kissed the mark again and again, each time eliciting more bursts of arousal in the repairing bond. 

Unintentionally he pressed his legs together as he sighed out quietly. He felt himself sinking into the pleasure as tongues licked at the spot. The brush of heat every few seconds was maddening. The spot was a hotbed of nerves that seemed to rush through his body and straight to his crotch. Two palms ran along his body again, tracing down to his closed thighs. 

**‘There is no need to be shy my mate, I feel the same.’**

He swallowed audibly and relaxed his thighs and calves, allowing Stalien to spread them apart once more. There was a muffled noise of surprise when a hand worked down his inner thigh to dance along the edges of his covered crotch. 

**‘How would you like to be for the first coupling?’**

Murdoc clenched his jaw, a large flutter of nerves filling his gut. Everything felt strangely new, as though it were truly their first time.

**‘Maybe like this?’** Stalien cupped a large palm over him and began to fondle his slight bulge and he gasped, his hips jerking. **‘Or maybe on your stomach, you were often fond of that, being covered by me while I took you apart.’**

His body trembled, the smooth tone of the mental voice tickled old memories up. Stalien brought their heads together, resting his forehead against Murdoc’s, a slow smirk forming on spotted lips.

**‘I can feel your excitement, it’s exhilarating to feel it again after so long. You want me to take you apart.’**

He parted his lips, words caught in his throat as the alien held his body firm and maneuvered him onto his stomach. Stalien laid against him, face nuzzling against his shoulder again, mouthing the bond mark with warm breath. His breath caught when Stalien flicked a wrist and the bond mate clothing dematerialized from his body leaving him in nothing more than bond jewellery and paint. 

**‘Tell me if I am moving too fast’**

“N-no,” Murdoc breathed, “not fast enough.”

There was a noise of delight from the seven-foot alien before hands settled at his hips. Stalien shifted above him and seemed to reach for something. He only realized what it was, pillows, after the creature lifted his hips to plant the soft cushions under his waist. 

Strong images of their many times in the shack flooded his mind as the hands slid from his hips to his thighs, spreading them apart. He swallowed thickly, aware of how loud it sounded in the otherwise quiet room.

**‘Delightful’**

Stalien moved, knees digging into the bed and creating a dip he leaned into unintentionally. The alien pressed his mouth to the middle of Murdoc’s back, kissing down his spine to the dimples at his tailbone. He wet his lips, anticipation building as the mouth continued. Lips followed the line of his crack, tongue tips teasing as Stalien followed the path down to the midway point. Two hands cupped his cheeks and spread them. 

“Nh…”

**‘You are still okay?’**

“Yes.”

He hated to admit to himself how flushed he felt, how hot his face was over something they had done numerous times. 

At the first tentative slide of a hot muscle he gasped sharply. Then another followed until it was numerous and continuous. He felt a growing slickness to his backside and a shiver of pleasure ran through him at the positively dirty sensation. His breath came in short pants as his hips worked partly, awkwardly rutting into the pillows, seeking friction to alleviate the building of pressure. 

**‘Eager, I cannot wait to fill you.’** **  
  
  
****  
**Murdoc made a noise and his ears burned.

Wet fingers replaced the tongues and he breathed out when Stalien insistently rubbed and teased at his anus with one. He knew the alien was easing the tenseness from his backside. The nerves started to filter in from earlier, but under different reasons. It had been a while since they had consummated anything and he worried the girth alone would tear him. He grunted slightly when a finger breached him, it was slow and worked continually, much like the tongues. Stalien only seemed to progress to another finger after what felt like ages.

**'Are you okay?'**

"Yes," he mumbled. He whined when a third finger started to work in. "Okay, not used to this."

**‘Should I slow down?’**

Without prompting Stalien did slow down and Murdoc growled.

“No, don’t drag it out.”

Stalien rumbled, low in his throat before fully adding the third and eventually a fourth finger. By the fourth he was straining not to make a noise of discomfort. It was a bit much and it took longer for the stretch to feel good. He huffed out against the bed when his prostate was brushed finally. A few more passes and he felt himself rehardening to full maste. There was a warm tingle that ran through his body, rekindled with each stroke to his prostate by long, dexterous fingers. He inhaled deeply as his impending orgasm built, burning in his nethers. 

**‘Shall I proceed?’**

He grabbed at the bedding, silken sheets grasped between his fingers. He looked at the slight purple smudges on the pure white and whimpered. Something about the visible acknowledgement of Stalien claiming him, messing up his carefully crafted appearance, was settling hot and molten in his abdomen. 

“Please,” he gasped. 

**‘Of course my love.’**

The fingers retreated, gently as they came, and Stalien re-positioned himself. The shifting caused him to tense again. Hands traced over his skin, feathery touches meant to sooth him. Unfortunately it lacked the usual quick feeling of calming due to their damaged bond. Murdoc felt it filter in after a moment or two and for once allowed it. He lowered his mental defenses and sunk into the soothing as he felt his partner nudging at his opening. 

“Hm…”

**‘It’s okay Murdoc, deep breath. I promise I will be gentle.’**

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as Stalien eased into him. It felt far more visceral than any other time, almost raw with strong emotional feelings surging into him. He exhaled and clutched to the sheets tighter as the alien pressed deeper. There was a swarm of elation, excitement, arousal and eagerness. Mentally he breathed the sensations in and the nervousness melted away with each pseudo breath he took. 

“I have missed you,” Stalien breathed at his ear, voice wavering. “I love hearing you, feeling you.”

It felt good to allow the extraterrestrial back in, to feel Stalien wrapping his mind in a cocoon of emotional support. Without conscious decision he tilted his head and half nuzzled into the alien kissing at his neck and then shoulder. 

Stalien nearly purred as he rocked his hips and pressed further in. It felt heavenly being full and Murdoc blinked, hazy and high off the emotions pouring into him and the pleasure thrumming through him.   
  
  


It took no more than a furtive look, hooded eyes catching one another, before Stalien growled. He began rocking more insistently, slowly easing in and out, creating an arousing friction between them. Murdoc grabbed tighter to the white sheets, face burning as his heart rate picked up. Everything built hard and fast between them until Stalien was pressing his chest to Murdoc’s back. 

“Such a lovely mate you are, Murdoc.”

Stalien was panting in his ear, voice a hot mess of hitched breathing and stuttered gasps. His back dipped as the pressure built, narrowing to a hot point within him. Gripping with ferocity, knuckles white, Murdoc moaned brokenly as his orgasm ripped through him. It left him shaking and gulping for air. Stalien chased it with his own, sharp teeth digging into the old scar of their first bonding. 

There was a sudden slice of intensity that tore through them both. The broken and ragged edges of their bond started to sew up, metaphorically. Stalien groaned into his skin as he thrust once more, deeply seated inside him as he came. The sensation made him shudder. He breathed slow and deep as Stalien carefully kissed and licked the fresh mark to his shoulder. 

When Stalien eased out Murdoc sighed. He immediately began to relax his body so there was no strain when the extraterrestrial pulled out. The alien moved behind him to lay on the bed next to him, arms sliding around him and tugging him close. It took a little maneuvering before both of them were comfortable, tucked close. 

**‘It will take more than one coupling to fix the damage, but I feel exhilarated.’**

**‘Yeah, feels good.’**

Stalien kissed his head, nuzzling into his thick hair with a happy chirping noise. It was sweet in an alien way, something only recently he was made aware Stalien could do. He glanced down his body to see his jewellery askew and the smudges of purple all over. He could imagine by the end of this his body would be marked up and messy. He would have aches and bruises for sure.

💔 💔 💔

Both of them fell back into the bed with heavy exhales. The sheets were a mess of sweat, purple paint and… well other bodily fluids. Murdoc slowly caught his breath with a gasp. His chest was still heaving slightly. Whatever remnants of damage to their bond were fully absent, it was as though he could breathe again. 

“I’m beat,” Murdoc murmured. “How many days has it been? Feels like forever.”

**‘Uh… I imagine it’s been a couple days, possibly the length I mentioned beforehand. Are you sore?’**

Taking stock of his body, Murdoc huffed. “Yeah. I shouldn’t be surprised though, you really went at it.”

“I’m sorry Murdoc,” Stalien said. He turned to face Murdoc, eyes warm and open. “I didn’t mean to get overzealous, I was thrilled. I missed you.”

Something about the words, or maybe the way Stalien looked at him made Murdoc feel guilty. There was a long history between them now, years long, and with their bond repaired he suddenly had years of silent suffering to process. It hit uncomfortably fast.

Stalien looked at him, face morphing into concern. 

“What is wrong?”

Murdoc trailed his eyes up to the main set of galaxy eyes.

“This doesn’t fix things, Spots.”

Patterned brows furrowed as the alien stared at him, openly confused now. 

“I-... but our bond is repairing.”

“That’s not how it works. You can’t just _fuck_ me back into happiness. There’s still things, stuff, and we need to figure it out,” Murdoc struggled to explain, something he had barely any experience with. “I’m still mad.”

**‘Mad? I thought…’** **  
  
  
****  
**“What? That fixing the bond would just automatically fix shit?”

**‘I assumed wrong, I’m sorry, Murdoc.’**

Murdoc sighed and looked at the draped sheer curtains above them. His eyes followed the fairy lights glowing above him. He could feel the alien staring at him, clearly looking for some sign or a prompt. The very notion exhausted him.

“I’m tired.”

Stalien remained mute. He shifted his sore body over and laid on his side, facing away from the other. He tucked a hand under his head and pillow, breathing softly.

“Murdoc-”

“Tomorrow. I want to sleep.”

For a terrifying moment, Murdoc worried the alien would cuddle up to him. Thankfully the bed wiggled as Stalien rolled away, seemingly picking up on his desire for space. He exhaled quietly and closed his eyes, willing his tired body to sleep. Just as his mind started to slip into the quiet vestiges of sleep he felt the thrum of sadness radiating from Stalien. It came across the newly repaired bond so gently, Murdoc almost missed it. He immediately recognized it as the alien smothering his own emotions so Murdoc would not feel or be concerned with it. 

He squeezed his eyes tighter. His heart felt increasingly heavy with the knowledge. The heart was such a burden to have. Murdoc tentatively reached out via the bond to sooth the weak signals of sadness. While neither of them moved, and the melancholy sensation lingered, there was a silent connection between them.

Things were far from fixed. However, the immediate danger to their health had been dealt with. Murdoc knew it would take an age before other matters between them were… _right_ , but part of him hoped they would reach it sometime down the road. 

**‘Love you, Murdoc.’** **  
  
  
****  
**He was silent for a long couple minutes, mentally and verbally. Although they had a physical rift between them he mumbled quietly.

“I love yeah too, Spots.”

  
  
  


💔 💔 💔


	4. Beyond the Sea: Island Retreat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A harrowing escape lands them on the sandy shores of some mystical island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a gift for the lovely @supposed2bfunny (Beck), for being an amazing friend. I've been working on editing and art for this piece for a while, I can't wait to mail you the physical booklet! 
> 
> This one-shot has mild spoilers for the actual story of Beyond the Sea, which won't be out for a while. It's also got sexual content, so please be 18+ before reading, thank you :D

_  
To the lovely Beck, _

_   
_ _ Thank you for your patience and the continued support you offer me. You were and still are an inspiration to me. Your writing and up-lifting comments have always been wonderful and I hope that with this story and others I can return even a sliver of that support and love! _

_ I chose this AU for you because, despite not doing a lot for it, something seemed to catch your eye early on when I originally crafted it. Maybe the tattoos? Hehe _

_ I hope you had a lovely holiday and a nice start to your new year.  _

  
  


**BEYOND THE SEA**

**_Island Retreat_ **

  
  


⚓️ ⚓️ ⚓️

  
  


Biting wind and persistent, ice-cold rain battered them in the dingy. There was seemingly no end to the constant rage of the waves or the dark clouds hanging around them. Stuart desperately gripped at the edge of the dingy, his mangled wrist poorly wrapped and pressed to his chest protectively. They hardly had a moment to gather hidden supplies and leap into the row-boat. Murdoc regretted being unable to properly attend to the injury, but Hannibal had been hot on their heels. Stuart’s safety and freedom had meant more in that instant. 

Murdoc fought the water and its murky depths with feeble wooden oars. It did little to assuage the tossing and turning. Already having spent a day in the boat, neither of them had much energy. Despite it, Murdoc refused to have their ill timed escape going to waste amongst the sea’s violence. He grit his teeth and ignored the protest of overused muscles while trying hard to maintain a somewhat steady position. 

Stuart gave a sudden yell that rang out over the storm and rumbles of thunder. Murdoc cast his head around only to find his vision filled with Stuart’s scared face and a lap full of the lanky man. Unthinkingly he found his arm winding around Stuart to hold the other close. Abruptly the row boat tilted with the movement of a tremendous wave and Murdoc understood the fearful cowering. There was a brief instant where he realized they were going to capsize. The row boat was  _ too _ small to handle the steep angle. Forgoing a fight against the water, Murdoc tucked his other arm around Stuart and held the man tight as their boat rapidly upended. 

The vicious shock of freezing water ripped through their senses and by sheer dumb luck, Murdoc had managed to keep a hold on Stuart. The younger man hollered in fear, half his yells being muffled by rushing water and overhead sounds of the storm while his good hand clutched to Murdoc’s shirt. They were flung around in the water, occasionally disappearing beneath the ever present but hidden tumultuous undertow. Neither knew up from down and in frenzied panic, both Stuart and Murdoc held fast and prayed to any deity that they made it out alive. 

  
  


⚓️ ⚓️ ⚓️

  
  
  
  


His face was pressed to the damp shore, lips crusted with sand, not tasting so much as feeling the fine grains saturating his mouth. He attempted to turn his head, groaning as his body lit up with pain. He slowly removed his mouth from the shore and exhaled, high pitched and pitiful. Murdoc blinked his eyes, momentarily blinded by bright light until his eyes adjusted through a squint. All he could see for a long stretch was a reddish-pink beach and nearly out of his line of sight, trees. For a minute he felt relieved. He survived the insanity of whatever they had endured out on the ocean. A spike of adrenaline, fueled by a dark cloud of dread, pushed him into forcing his body upright. 

“Stuart!” 

Coughing out sand and working his jaw past his aches, Murdoc quickly turned over. His eyes honed in on the pale figure and blue hair a half mile down the beach. The figure lay un-moving and instantly his heart raced as everything went cold. He pushed himself to his feet and one stumble turned into two steps, and then into flat out running. He felt the torn skin at his side, how it was open and sliding painfully with his movement. None of that mattered though as he rushed, nearly tripping on driftwood, to reach Stuart.

“Stuart!” The exertion caught up to him far quicker than expected despite the adrenaline pushing him. 

Collapsing down to his knees in the damp sand next to the prone body, Murdoc scrambled to roll Stuart over and feel for a pulse. His fingers shakily pressed to the pale neck firmly. He waited, breath coming in short pants. Immediately his breathing eased at the feel of a strong and steady pulse. Aside from seaweed and other debris being in and around Stuart’s hair, the man appeared relaxed if unconscious;  _ and _ , Murdoc thought,  _ alive _ .

“Stu, love, it’s time to wake up.” He patted the man’s cheek roughly, pleased when Stuart coughed. “There’s a lad. C’mon, up you get.”

For a moment Murdoc remained still over Stuart, watching as the young man choked out sea water and grit. Blue eyes fluttered open, finally focusing on Murdoc’s face. 

“Hi,” Stuart coughed.

His initial fears relaxed, Murdoc gave the other a lopsided grin. Helping Stuart sit up, Murdoc held the younger man close in the sand, breathing in relief. They both remained there a moment while Stuart got his bearings.

“Ye’ got us to land,” Stuart croaked. 

Murdoc hummed in response, soaking up the knowledge that Stuart was safe in his arms and alive. Eventually Stuart shifted and the older man realized the younger wanted to stand. Once on their feet, Stuart tottered with dizziness so Murdoc offered a stabilizing arm around his waist. 

He gave Stuart a tap on the chest while they hobbled towards the tree line. “Had me scared half to death, thought you were dead.”

“Guess it takes more than a bad storm to get me,” Stuart answered, voice hoarse from coughing and salt water. “Where did we end up?” 

“Your guess s’good as mine. Suppose the sea took mercy on us though, unless we’re actually dead and this’s purgatory.”

“Please don’t joke ‘bout that Doc.”

Once they found a decent patch to sit, Murdoc carefully settled along the sparse grass beside Stuart. He inhaled carefully, a strip of fiery pain running up his side with it. Murdoc groaned quietly and tried to sit comfortably into the tree trunk behind him. When Stuart glanced at him, an eyebrow raised in question, Murdoc waved him off slightly. The younger man turned away to wipe his face using his good hand, following it with a heavy sigh.

“We lost all our supplies.”

“But we’re alive.”

“Silver-lining now, but what’re we gonna do Murdoc? We’ve nothing but ourselves, and we’re lost. I didn’t think running off your brother’s ship would land us in this mess.”

At the mention of Hannibal, Murdoc glanced at Stuart's surprisingly still wrapped wrist and grimaced. 

“Lemme see that, can’t have been good all of that salt water.”

Instinctually Stuart brought the injured wrist to his chest and cupped his opposite hand around the arm below the injury. Murdoc brought his eyes up to Stuart’s.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Murdoc waited until Stuart relaxed. The man lowered his arm and rested it on Murdoc’s lap. Gingerly Murdoc unwrapped the soggy fabric to get a peek at the wrist. Mangled skin met his gaze and Murdoc winced as he tilted his head, examining it without disturbing it. Stuart whined pitifully and leaned into Murdoc’s side when his own eyes caught sight of open muscle. It was a pale mess of torn flesh, seemingly finished bleeding due to salt water.

“It’s horrid.”

“It is,” Murdoc agreed. “I think with proper care it can heal… Don’t know how much feeling you’ll retain though.” 

“Should lop it off, be done with it.” 

“Nonsense. Can you feel your fingers?”    
  
Stuart rested his head against Murdoc’s shoulder and watched his own fingers. Murdoc observed them as well, waiting patiently for something to occur. It was a long pause in their conversation before Stuart’s index and middle finger twitched. 

“Ah,” Stuart gasped, “it’s- I can move them. That’s good right?”    
  
Without thought, Murdoc pressed his lips to Stuart’s head. “It’s a start.” 

  
  


⚓️ ⚓️ ⚓️

  
  


The long haul proceeding the initial day was arranging shelter, finding food and water. Murdoc worked tirelessly to make things safe, conducive to healing, despite his own painful injuries. Stuart often helped in a smaller manner, avoiding the use of his otherwise useless wrist, by cooking or holding things up one handed. 

It was long, difficult work, especially doing so alone. Murdoc found he needed breaks more often as days passed into weeks. He avoided Stuart during those moments, to keep the man from worrying. He cleaned the injury with the water he found on the island, haphazardly wrapping it, which for a while seemed to work. 

Until one day it seemed to stop working.

He leaned into a tree, hand gingerly touching at his side with a sharp gasp. The pain was growing worse today, spreading like a physical disease all along his side and ribs. Murdoc groaned partly as he awkwardly shifted the tattered shirt up to peer at the injury. The lopsided bandages were stained, discoloured from blood and what looked like pus.

Murdoc dropped the fabric and huffed out carefully. Even as a half-ways trained doctor he knew he was in a bad way. He knew the feverish feeling, the haze, and the odd pangs of pain and numbness in quick succession meant he was heading towards blood poisoning or possibly death. He closed his eyes and staved off the mild dizziness, leaning harder into the tree. 

“Damnit.”

There was a soft rustle of underbrush behind him. Attempting to appear unaffected, Murdoc pushed off the tree and stood normally, partially out of breath. He rushed to wipe the sweat away, turning some to glance back at Stuart.

“Doc? You okay?” Stuart’s voice was soft.

“Yeah, taking a break.”

Stuart watched him, brows pinching. Murdoc gave the other a smile and salute, trying in vain to push any fears aside. His heart pounded as dark thoughts swirled; he could die on this god forsaken island and Stuart would be completely alone. 

_ I could die. _

“Stop that. Stop smiling at me like y’aint in pain,” Stuart tilted his head and gestured to Murdoc’s side with a frown. “Let me see.”

“See what?”

“Your side. You think I haven’t noticed?” Stuart took a step towards him, but stopped and motioned again. “You favour your side like it’s smarting, so don’t play stupid with me. Show me.”

“Oh piss off, Stu, I probably hit my side. Stop making things worse than they are, I’m fine.”

The ground crunched as Stuart approached him quickly. He took a nervous step back.

“Show me Murdoc Niccals, or I swear!” 

“Oh we’re using full names now?”    
  
Stuart shot his good hand out, grabbing at Murdoc’s shirt, trying to lift the fabric. Murdoc shoved the taller man back, wincing when a stinging pain shot up his side at the movement. Stumbling back some steps, Stuart rubbed his chest with his partially healed mangled hand. He pointed and growled, “My point exactly! You’re hurting. Stop being so difficult with me and let me see. I could help.”

Murdoc took a deep breath, lowering the hand that instinctually went to his side. 

“You can’t do anything, it’s too late.”

It was meant to feel like a victory, winning an argument, but Murdoc felt a deep hollow sensation engulf him. Stuart swallowed, eyes wide and unseeing as the words sunk in.

“What do you  _ mean _ too late?”

“It’s not important.”

As if to cut their conversation off there, Murdoc made to pass the taller man only Stuart grasped his arm tightly halting him.

“What does that mean?”

Sagging, Murdoc heard the telltale concern in Stuart’s voice, muddled under the man’s ire. He bowed his head partly before relaxing his arm under Stuart’s hold.

“Infection. Getting worse.”

Stuart dropped his arm as though burned, breath hitching. 

“Taking it day by day.”

“Murdoc.” 

His voice sounded smaller, almost distant. 

“It’ll be fine, love.”

Strangely his own voice sounded far off to. Murdoc blinked as everything became lethargic as though in slow-motion, and then the ground abruptly filled his vision.    
  
“Murdoc!” 

Stuart sounded like an echo across the sea, far from his reach. He reached for him as a great blackness filled the space around the young man. The harder he sought Stuart the further the man got until everything became dark.

“Murdoc! Oh lord above, please let him live so I can strangle him,” Stuart stuttered in panic. 

⚓️ ⚓️ ⚓️

There were moments, fleeting and blurred at the edges, where Murdoc felt like he was floating. He kept fading in and out of what he assumed was reality. Stuart sounded terrified in some of those moments, others he sounded sad or angry. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed in and out like that, it could have been minutes or days.

When he did become aware it was a slow process. Reality bled in like sand pouring through fingers. Small portions of his surroundings began to filter in, muddled in a way that felt like he was submerged. There were sounds of movement and then the soft hum of a voice. It hummed a tune he scarcely recognized, but soothed him nonetheless. 

Smell came to him second in the form of fish cooking somewhere nearby. It spurred him into opening his eyes, blinking lazily. His eyes came into focus after a couple moments of staring. At first he only saw a roof, straw and leaves tethered together with what looked like twine. Rather quickly the space above him was filled with a warm face and two blue eyes wide and inquisitive. 

“How are we today?”

He blinked again, brain catching up to the question once he comprehended who it was staring at him.

“S-stu?”

“Oh,” Stuart gasped and his eyes rather abruptly watered. “You’re lucid, oh god I thought… I didn’t know if ye’d wake up or stop being feverish.”

Stuart hastily wiped his eyes and smiled awkwardly. He leaned back so he wasn’t hovering in Murdoc’s personal bubble. 

“What,” Murdoc swallowed. His throat was parched and speaking felt strange. He cleared his throat and started again, “What happened?”

“Well,” Stuart huffed, voice weak. “You refused help as you do and it caught up to ye’. Daft idiot.”

Murdoc shifted and made an attempt to sit up, but his body protested the movement. He exhaled in a rush as he relaxed back, side flaring up in pain. 

“I wouldn’t be rushing to it quite yet, Doc. You’re recovering still y’see, and your side is an ugly mess. I’m no doctor and I tried my best.”

Murdoc groaned and glanced at Stuart. 

“How long?”

“Ah, let me check.”

As Stuart made to stand, Murdoc caught his wrist. His plan to halt Stuart with words dried up when he felt the thick scar tissue around the other’s wrist. It took a couple seconds of feeling along the skin to realize it was healed over completely. Murdoc looked at Stuart stunned.

“It’s been a while,” Stuart murmured.

“Stu…”

“I was furious with you, so angry.” Stuart struggled. He sat on the bed near Murdoc and looked to the side as he collected himself. “I didn’t have time to be mad though. It was either I take care of us or we both die. There were some close calls.”

“I should have said something,” Murdoc said while he held fast to Stuart’s wrist, terrified the man would leave. “I suppose it’s jus’ the same, I keep tryin’ to look after you. Jus’ wanted to make you feel… safe, didn’t think ‘bout me.”

Stuart stared at the wall of the make-shift shack, chewing his lip. To Murdoc it appeared the other was in deep thought, potentially weighing what to say. 

“I should still be mad, I have a right to it.”

“Yes.”

“But I’m honestly relieved,” Stuart said softly. He looked at Murdoc with watery eyes. “I would ‘ave been completely alone had you died, did yeah think of that Doc?”

It was a fight to force his body upwards as pain shot up his side, but Murdoc clenched his jaw. Stuart gave silent protest almost immediately fretting at him and attempting to aid him. Once capably sitting up, Murdoc reached with his other hand and grabbed a handful of blue hair, longer now. The kiss was uncoordinated and sloppy, but Stuart melted into it near instantly. Murdoc wasn’t a man of many affections or words, but the ones he did spare were always firmly sought after. Murdoc broke their kiss to rest his forehead against Stuart’s, staring into deep blue eyes. 

“I’m here ‘cause of yeah Stu, I won’t be pissin’ on that second chance anytime soon.”

Stuart gave him a choked sounding laugh as he wormed long arms around him. They hugged for what seemed forever, just holding one another close. There were words trapped at the back of his throat, hovering there and waiting for Murdoc to speak them into existence. No matter how he tried they remained there, stuck like sludge coating his mouth. Instead of dwelling on the awkward nature of his emotions and expressing them, Murdoc held the younger man tightly. What he could not say in words he could show in actions.

Their evening turned into cooked fish and cuddling in the small cot, close and warm. It would be a while before Murdoc was capable of much more and he knew it would be an uphill battle.

Stuart showed him what he had done in the time Murdoc was in and out of consciousness, the stuff he had built. The young man explained that there were many attempts and cuts before success was found in building the sea-side shack, which the man did mostly alone. Murdoc was impressed and did little to hide it. He wished it had not been done due to panic and his foolish behaviour, but that was the past. They were set to move forward from there, both of them together.

The first week of recovery was spent regaining his mobility. Stuart helped every step of the way, far more patient than Murdoc would have been in his position. It took a lot of huffing and puffing for Murdoc to find some stability in his body again, but when he had it he held fast. They spent the rest of that month working on building strength in his limbs. 

And, in time, the days blended seamlessly together until there were days they did nothing more than lazily walk the beach, admiring the pinkish sands and its treasures. Stuart often held his hand, fingers interwoven. It was the first time in months that there was no need to look over their shoulders, to fear repercussions for being intimate. They would often stop on the beach in the twilight of early evening to share in a couple furtive kisses, both feeling like children doing something naughty. It felt strange being open about it, but the more they did it, the more comfortable the action became.

Tonight was one of those nights, a night to wander aimlessly and chat occasionally. There was no urge to hold conversation longer than a couple words off and on. Stuart smiled to himself as he swung their hands slightly. 

“I used to dream about this,” he commented softly.

“‘Bout being marooned on a pink island?” 

Murdoc was shoved lightly as Stuart lit up with humour, snickering. The way the taller man looked and sounded, so carefree and gentle, Murdoc swallowed down those words tickling at his throat so many nights and tonight was no different.

“I meant freedom, being allowed to be at peace.”

“Yeah?”

Stuart nodded and turned his face partly, smile widening. Murdoc hummed in silent agreement as he gave the younger man’s palm a gentle squeeze. They were paused midway down the beach. Their hut and fire was a small marker of the distance they strolled. 

Stuart’s eyes sparkled like blue jewels in the full-moon light and his breath caught when they properly looked to one another. He swallowed thickly and brought a rough palm up to cup Stuart’s cheek abruptly, smoothing his thumb over the small brand mark under his eye. 

“Ye’ keep staring at me like…” Stuart trailed off. 

“Like what?”

He smoothed his thumb and hand over the cheek to rest at the side of Stuart’s throat. 

“Like I’m all that matters,” Stuart whispered. 

A small chuckle escaped him, a nervous response to the comment, and Murdoc dragged Stuart into a light kiss. It wasn’t an answer, but Stuart gratefully took it, lips curving into a slight smile.

Long, elegant fingers danced at his shoulders and slowly down his clothed chest. Stuart always radiated a nervous energy when their kissing became more heated. The younger man patted at the worn material of Murdoc’s shirt, seemingly unsure where to rest his palms while they kissed one another soft and sweet. No matter how little they did or did not do, Murdoc found his attraction never waned and neither did his stiff cock; unless he took care of it well after Stuart fell asleep, but that wasn’t important.

He moved his mouth, lips parting, and introduced teeth into the mix. It unfortunately had a more negative result than Murdoc had hoped. Stuart yanked away from him and brought a hand to his mouth. 

“S-sorry,” Stuart stuttered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Hush pet, you haven’t done a thing. Stop yer fretting.”

Murdoc cleared his throat as if to clear the air of potential tension and nodded towards their pseudo campsite. 

“C’mon, it’s getting cool out here.”

Stuart lowered his hand to reveal a disheartened expression. He watched the man’s blue eyes trail his body, as he usually did any time this happened. 

“Murdoc-”

“Stu, it’s fine.”

“But I-”

“Stuart stop it. It’s fine, alright? Yer clearly uncomfortable so stop making it worse.”

Then came the slumped shoulders Murdoc knew all too well. He sighed heavily and reached for Stuart’s limp hand. 

“Hey, don’t do that. I ain’t mad at’cha.” 

“Well you should be,” Stuart muttered in disdain. “Mans’ got desires ‘nd I can’t even fulfill that.”

He cradled Stuart’s larger hand and gave it a warm squeeze. 

“Shut yer gob you numpty. Enough shite. Let’s get that fire roaring and cook our feet, yeah? Jus’ you and me.”

Stuart finally nodded in agreement, a tentative smile worming its way onto his pretty face. Murdoc gave him a crooked grin back and made towards the fire with the young man. 

“‘Sides, y’know it ain’t needing to be anything more than a couple kisses if y’want Stu. I’ve no urge to push yeah. All at your speed.”

He received no answer while they walked and Murdoc left the conversation there. He watched the pink sand sink under his feet while they strode. The island was a strange place with strange sand, but he would be remiss to call the place cursed or anything. It had been their haven after such a harrowing escape. Plus the pure luck the island seemed to possess, neither of them should have recovered their injuries yet here they were. Very odd island indeed.

He eventually looked up and examined their beach dwelling. The fire nearby to it was moderate and highlighted the area with a hot glow of orange-ish yellow. The heat coming off it was comfortable at a distance and so Murdoc directed them to the sloping pink sand nearer to the shack to sit. He got situated in the soft cushion of the warmed sand and lightly tugged Stuart down next to him. The taller man snuggled into Murdoc’s side and tucked his face into Murdoc’s neck, finally content.   
  


For a while the two of them remained still, soaking up the heat. The island was near devoid of any animal life, big and small so neither of them had to worry about any sand critters or otherwise. It was both nice and weird, but neither had contemplated it too long or what it meant, besides they had plenty of fruit and other various plants or fish to eat, for now. 

“You meant it, right?” Stuart’s voice cut through the near silence startling Murdoc.

“What?”

“That it would be okay to kiss and only that. You mean it?”

Murdoc hummed, “yeah, ‘course I meant it.”

A gentle quietness engulfed them again, filled only with the crackle of the fire in front of them. Murdoc yawned softly and went to resettle into the sand. 

“Can… Can we try kissing again?”

Rubbing at an eye, Murdoc peered at the other man. Stuart was watching him with wide blue eyes. He looked nervous.

“Ah, well, if ye’ want, sure, but there ain’t any rush, pet.”

The moment Murdoc stopped talking Stuart grabbed his face and kissed him rather fiercely, knocking their noses together awkwardly. There was a moment of surprise before Murdoc corrected the position of their mouths to kiss the younger man back. As fast as it started, Stuart was tugging away rapidly. 

“I want to sit on you.”

“Uh…” 

“A-and you need to keep your hands on my waist, or above the waist. Or maybe on my shoulders… er-”

“Stu, y’could jus’ say no sex ‘nd I think I’ll manage,” Murdoc chuckled.

The younger man’s face began to redden in the glow of the fire, so much so, Murdoc worried he would pass out. 

“I… okay, yes, no sex.” Stuart nodded. Without preamble the lanky man clambered up into Murdoc’s lap and straddled him. “I, uh really wish to kiss to excess, I want to be close and intimate, but I don’t think myself ready for more.”

“Fine,” Murdoc hummed, looking up at the other. “Where else may I kiss ye’?”

There was a brief moment of stuttering before Stuart coughed to clear away his own anxieties. 

“Shoulders and above.”

“ _ Oh _ ?”

“Doc, stop that. Heavens I’m already struggling, don’t make it worse.”

Murdoc waved his hands lightly with a small grin. Stuart grunted and looked to the side a moment. 

“I do want more, I think, it’s jus’ things were bad.”

“Ye’ don’t have to explain, pet,” Murdoc set his hands to rest on Stuart’s waist. He tugged the taller man closer in his lap. He heard Stuart make a tiny noise at the back of his throat.

Peering at the other, Murdoc gauged Stuart’s expression before proceeding. He leaned forward and tilted his head to nuzzle at the soft neck. He breathed in the scent of salty sea air and warm sun from the somewhat burnt skin, enjoying the closeness. Slowly he pressed his lips to Stuart’s pulse, feeling the way it jumped and rushed with the action. Stuart’s hands gripped at his upper arms, still seemingly unsure where to place them. 

“Breath Stu, you’re safe.”

Stuart gave a curt nod and eventually he relaxed into Murdoc’s lap, his pulse slowing. Once sure the other was calm again, Murdoc pressed another kiss to the neck, relishing in the way Stuart leaned into the light pressure this time. 

Gradually Murdoc led a feathery trail along the neck until he was buried into Stuart’s ear and hair. He teased the younger man’s ear with a warm nip, teeth just slightly grazing the flesh. It was enough to draw a faint moan from Stuart, one that went straight to his groin. Murdoc was conscious that things were not to lead anywhere aside from kissing, but he couldn’t help enjoying himself a little. He waited a tick before nibbling at the ear again, this time with more teeth. Stuart’s breathing hitched and the hands moved from his upper arms to his shoulders. 

He whispered against the ear, “doing good, pet?” 

“Mhm.” 

Taking it as gospel, Murdoc wound his arms around Stuart’s waist loosely. He pressed a hot kiss to the skin beneath the ear, charmed by the breathy sound that slipped out. It was a pleasant, leisurely pace of exploring Stuart’s ear and neck, discovering which spots made the man gasp. Every so many kisses he would pause to check in with Stuart and remarkably the other affirmed the continuation. The tension had slid out of Stuart the longer he let Murdoc explore his skin. 

“Here I thought I’d get to kiss your mouth sometime tonight,” Stuart finally mumbled teasingly. 

“Ha- apologies, how rude of me.” 

Pulling back some, Murdoc brought one hand from Stuart’s waist and cupped the younger man’s chin. 

“C’mere.”

They shared in a couple chaste kisses, each time they parted their mouths grew closer until they barely parted at all. Breathes mingled and Murdoc pushed more into the kisses, very softly reintroducing his teeth with far more favourable results. Stuart gave a muffled noise when their tongues met, his hands coming up to delve into Murdoc’s thick hair, pulling the man firmly into the kiss as though trying to meld with him. 

Murdoc shifted partly and allowed himself to fall flat into the sand, hands running up Stuart’s back to draw him down with the motion. Surprisingly the kissing didn’t halt and Stuart seemed to grow bolder. The younger man bit at Murdoc’s bottom lip partly and sucked on the mild sting he made, drawing a weak noise from Murdoc. Halfway through his hands traveling down to Stuart’s waist, intending to slide over the curve of his backside, Murdoc mentally reminded himself to halt there. 

He broke their snogging to take a deep breath and look up at Stuart’s flushed face, warm in the glow of the fire. 

“Stu-”

“Let’s move to the shack.”

Murdoc blinked, stunned at the sudden turn of mood.

“I know I said no, but I… I want to try. Anything more than kissing, I’ll go mad if we don’t progress further along.”

For once it was Murdoc that hesitated, more out of genuine concern. 

“Ye’ sure about that?”

“I am.” 

Stuart seemed resolute in the decision and even went so far as to part from Murdoc by standing. He held his good hand out and his features softened into a more welcoming expression. 

“I promise, Doc.”

“I believe ye’, ‘m only making sure it’s what ye’ want,” Murdoc quipped with a deep chuckle. He grasped the hand and got up to his feet with Stuart’s assistance.

  
  


⚓️ ⚓️ ⚓️

Upon entry, Stuart urgently pushed Murdoc into the cot, climbing up beside him and leaning in, in haste to kiss him. The only sounds beyond their breathing was the soft roll of the waves crashing up onto the shore outside. Their fire was hardly loud enough to be heard above that. It was a cool night, yet within the confines of their hut it felt nearly unbearable. 

The makeshift bed creaked under the movement of their bodies. Murdoc cupped Stuart's face one handed, their lips pressing hotly, insistently against one another. It had been a long while since they had the time and energy to enjoy a languid makeout session together, one that didn’t end abruptly or was short lived due to anxiety. It had started slow at first, tenuous, and grew more heated until their bodies were pressed close. Stuart gasped gently when his body was eased back into the cushion of their bed. At the back of his mind a swirl of mild anxiety tickled his senses. It was dark and he couldn't see and there were hands--

"Stu, darlin’, it's okay," Murdoc murmured against his cheek, kissing softly to his jaw. "You're here with me. You're safe." 

Hearing Murdoc helped him be reminded the hands weren't someone else. Stuart relaxed more and keened into the kisses with renewed vigor. Chapped lips fell over his once more and he groaned appreciatively when teeth nipped his bottom lip. There was a stirring in his loins that only grew until his body was sweaty. The more they kissed the more he craved something else, something different other than kissing. He couldn't quite place what he wanted until he built up the nerve. He grabbed at Murdoc’s palm to trail it down his chest without haste. The burn of arousal expanded until his dick throbbed painfully between his legs. He whimpered when finally he moved the hot palm way down to cup him through his clothes and feel at him. 

Again Murdoc whispered, closer to his ear this time, "is this alright?" 

He thanked the shroud of night for hiding the embarrassment painting his cheeks. He barely gasped out a weak, "yes, keep going." 

An overwhelming wave of pleasure washed over him, radiating from his crotch when Murdoc began pumping and fondling him a bit eagerly. His raspy whines were audible, even to his own ears.   
  
The urge to have more was filling his mind, heart pounding rapidly. A confidence he didn't know he had burst and he found his lips moving before he knew it. 

"More, I want something more." 

Murdoc stilled his hand and instantly dread filled the rush of pleasure he felt. Maybe he had said too much? 

"Y'sure pet? Don't want to overdo it, "Murdoc questioned as he left small endearing pecks to his temple and forehead. "I can do something else, you'd like it, but it might be a lot?" 

Swallowing down the small bout of fear, Stuart cleared his throat to comment. "Yes, I, uh... I'll say if it's too much. Promise."

The hand left his concealed erection and unintentionally he let slip a small huff of disappointment. Murdoc gave a soft chuckle and leaned away from his body. There was some shuffling before Stuart felt fingers curling into the waistband of his bottoms. Although his heart began to pound, as his anxiety swirled in his system, Stuart lifted his hips to allow Murdoc to remove the article. Once gone a tiny shiver ran up his thighs and instinctively Stuart closed them nervously. 

"It's alright, no need to be shy Stu. Just you an' me here." 

Chewing at his bottom lip he eased his legs apart once more, still thankful for the darkness. Not even the moonlight was bright enough, currently, to see further than a foot. The sensation of rough palms sliding over his smooth limbs made him jolt. Murdoc paused and gave him a moment to collect himself. Before long he felt calm enough to spread himself for the other man more fully. 

"I've wanted to do this a while now," Murdoc commented. "You've the loveliest legs Stu, even lovelier cock." 

He covered his face despite the darkness and chuckled awkwardly. He could feel the heat rise to his face at the compliment. No matter how sweet the words or how gentle the soothing motions of Murdoc's hands were, Stuart still felt a tiny well of fear. Fear that one day this man would grow bored and leave, grow ill of Stuart's constant anxieties over intimacy. 

"Come now Stu, outta yer head, focus on now. Right now."

A surprised gasp escaped him at the feel of hot lips pressing wet kisses to his inner thighs. The occasional brush of a cheek or chin with stubble against his sensitive skin did little to dissuade him from the lovely mouth working its way further. Against his wishes his body twitched and squirmed at the feel of teeth on his flesh, nibbling closer to his most intimate place. Part of him wanted to spread his legs further than possible and yet another part still wanted to close them in shame. 

"How's it feel, pet?" 

The rumbling voice vibrated his skin and his thigh quivered. All the heat pooled to his crotch in a mere instant, so quick he worried he may pass out. 

"S’good, Muds... K-keep going, please." 

Hot breath ghosted over his scrotum and his toes curled. He had never experienced anything like this, it was incredible and so, so dirty. Quite suddenly he let a loud moan slide out and involuntarily jerked his hips. Murdoc hummed from between his legs as he mouthed at his balls and the base of his erection. It was so much sensation and yet he only craved more. He could feel the edge creeping closer the more Murdoc ran his mouth over his crotch. 

"Don't go over yet lovely, I have one more thing for you to enjoy," Murdoc spoke against his cock, lips pressed to the head of his dick as he talked. His erection twitched and a light dribble of pre-cum began coating his tip. 

"O-oh... More?"

"Mhm." 

It felt as though his dick were encased in molten iron suddenly, softer but no less good. His brain short circuited and no words formed as he rutted up into the sensation, groaning loudly. He barely felt the twirl of a tongue at his weeping tip before everything was cresting too fast, crashing violently over the edge. He gasped and gasped as his hips worked on their own, chasing the intense feeling. 

Rather abruptly, though he almost didn't notice, Murdoc pulled away with a cough. The man choked a moment as he struggled to find his breath. Stuart lay there panting, his chest heaving as he came back to himself, momentarily lost.

"Good then?" Murdoc asked, coming to lay beside Stuart. 

"Good... Yeah." 

A laugh erupted from Murdoc and his chest felt warm, light, as though he was floating. 

"Glad my mouth is good for something then."

Stuart let a giggle bubble up and escape as he rolled onto his side to hide his face against Murdoc's shoulder. It was a pointless thing to do, but it helped him feel less embarrassed. A palm petted his hair and combed it from his face.

"Ye’ doing alright then?"

"Yeah," he mumbled in a daze. His body felt heavenly. He wondered why he hadn't thought to try something so lewd sooner, the outcome was fantastic. "We'll have to try it again... And again."

"You're welcome to give it a shot if you want. got me pretty fired up."

Pulling away, Stuart blinked as though to clear his vision. He could faintly make out the shape of Murdoc lying next to him.

"I use my mouth, er, down there on you? That's what you mean, right?"

The thought of performing a similar act on Murdoc brought up a swirl of nervous butterflies. There was no way he could do that, he'd never done anything like that. Murdoc would hate it and then Murdoc would leave him. The man would be infinitely more disappointed in his lack of abilities then Stuart thought Murdoc already was. 

A hand cupped his face bringing him from his thoughts. 

"You can use yer hand if that's easier Stu. No need to do it at all, it's okay." 

"No! I mean, no, I would love to do  _ that _ , but I- I wouldn't be good. I've never done anything like that, I would just disappoint you."

A second hand came up and held his face. Murdoc brought him into an endearing kiss, one that lasted a good couple of seconds. When they parted, Stuart felt the brush of thumbs rubbing his cheeks, one catching his healed over brand mark.

"I don't care if you're good or not, Stu. Hell I don't even care if you would rather not, ever. I just want  _ you _ , that's enough for me." 

The sudden swell of adoration made him inhale sharply. Stuart fell into the man, kissing him frantically.

He let his hands wander over chest and sternum, running down along the soft belly until they halted at Murdoc's waist. It was then their kisses stopped and Stuart gave a tiny nervous laugh.

"I could use my hands instead?" 

An unexpected noise escaped Murdoc, quiet but noticeable. Stuart blinked wildly as he tried to place it only to realize it was a moan, a very pleased moan. He sensed Murdoc moving eagerly as the man shifted back from Stuart and seemingly stripped himself of clothes rapidly. Stuart couldn't remember a time he had ever had such an excited partner, if ever.

"Y'sure Stu?" 

The edge of arousal in Murdoc's voice gave Stuart pause as his spent cock stirred to life once more. Suddenly his lack of skills meant nothing and Stuart felt a wide smile curling at his lips. The excitement was rubbing off on him.

"I'm very sure." 

The bed rocked as Murdoc positioned himself, laying on his back next to Stuart.

"Uh, take yer time, get a feel for things. Ha," Murdoc snickered. 

Smoothing his hands over bare skin to the jut of Murdoc's hips, Stuart imagined the man as though it were light in the room. He had seen the other nude before, they'd both seen one another in the buff. It came with living in close quarters. He couldn't quite imagine with full detail how the other would look aroused and laid out for him as though he were a meal for consumption. Stuart tickled his finger tips down the dip of Murdoc's thigh and brushed against the man's scrotum. There was a muffled gasp and then Murdoc was spreading his legs even more. 

"Y'sure you could live without this, Muds?" He had no idea where it was coming from, but there was a sudden urge to talk, to be torturous. "Could you live without my touches?"

"If you wanted that, I would. For you." 

Stuart smiled to himself as he rubbed along the inner thigh. Despite his momentary swell of dominance, he hadn't for the life of him any clue what to do now. As he continued to pet skin, but avoided the other's dick, Murdoc noticed.

"Did you want a  _ hand _ there, pet?"

"I know what to do," Stuart mumbled. His cheeks felt unbearably hot when he realized no, he actually didn't. He had barely touched himself as a teen for fear of his mother cutting his hands off, so he knew nothing of what he liked himself.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about Stu. Here," Murdoc started. The man grabbed Stuart's hand lightly and helped wrap it around the hot erection Stuart had avoided moments before. "Y'just go slow, stroke up and down."

Although he sounded in control, Murdoc's voice took on a breathier edge when Stuart kept his hand moving. Slow and easy. Murdoc kept his own hand loosely covering Stuart's, working both their hands up and down. Oddly, Stuart felt himself winding up again, moreso over the fact that Murdoc was becoming completely undone over something so simple. 

"Like that, yeah... S'good Stu, feels lovely."

"How lovely?"

He felt the other twitch in his own palm at the question. Unintentionally his hand squeezed a bit more around the cock. Murdoc gave a choked off whine and rolled his hips up against his hand. Something swelled in his chest, it felt like having power. 

"Tell me Murdoc, how lovely?" 

There was a stuttered noise before Murdoc found his voice, "s’perfect Stu. Yer hand feels perfect on me. S'all I ever need."

He felt the wetness of precum forming and so smoothed his thumb over the head. The shudder Murdoc gave had him doing it again and again as his hand sped up incrementally. It felt incredible working the usually stoic man up with so little. 

"Am I doing good Murdoc?" 

"God, yes. Yes, yes yer doing- hm, doing good Stu." 

Very quickly the slow rock of Murdoc's hips got more jerky as the man tensed under him. He felt more than saw as the cock in his palm pulsed, releasing all over his thumb and Murdoc's stomach. The stifled panting was his only indication from the other that it was enjoyable. He carefully pulled his hand back and leaned over Murdoc to kiss the sweaty forehead.

There were a couple moments of heavy breathing from the other man before Murdoc seemed to regain control of said breathing. They both remained in the quietness, seemingly processing what had happened. It went unsaid, those three little words they seemingly refused to share despite how close they had become. Finally Stuart was drawn to the bed with warm hands. He hummed in understanding and nestled in close to the shorter man, smiling.

He felt elated to have finally reached the top of his metaphorical hill, the one holding him back from more carnal enjoyments. He wasn’t completely over it, but it felt like a minor victory. Murdoc pressed a couple soft, silent kisses to his cheek and temple, settling beside Stuart. He read that as the older man calling it a night and slipped a hand across the hairy chest. There was lingering dampness, sweat, from their earlier fun, which only made Stuart trill mentally at the strange accomplishment. 

“Thank you,” he murmured into Murdoc’s shoulder. 

“Hm?” 

“Thank you for havin’ the patience for me. I appreciate it.”

Murdoc yawned, exhaling a bit harshly as he tilted his head to peck Stuart’s forehead. 

“Welcome love.” 

Murdoc lapsed into quietness and Stuart followed suit. When sure the other had drifted off, Stuart lifted his head just slightly enough to eye Murdoc. Moonlight finally highlighted some of the inners of the shack and so Stuart took a brief minute to admire the other man, bathed in soft white. He smiled to himself before lowering his head to a warm shoulder once more. A short moment later and he settled into the wonky little bed, the soothing sound of rolling waves enough to fall asleep to. 

  
  


⚓️ ⚓️ ⚓️

_ Thank you Beck, for being an amazing friend. Lots of love~ _


End file.
